#I need to go to bracken cave

[transgender-chiroptera]

This is pretty epic but we've got a long way to go guys

[aemondapologistfrfr]

His Princess

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Summary: During Rhaenyras absence Jace and Baela deploy you out to deal with the Blackwoods and the Brackens, atop Silverwing. You treat with Lord Benjicot and prepare for a battle with the Brackens. You both can’t help the feelings that arise from working closely together.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, drinking, blood, blades, death(not mc), burning, foul language, political plotting, oral (f receiving), p in v

Authors Note: no bc i got caught up in the plot for a sec 😵‍💫, the rider dragon bond is diff than show, I would say I proofread this like 90%

Word Count: 6.2k

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“I’m done fucking waiting.” Jace paces around the painted table cursing under his breath. Baela goes to Jaces side and offers him hushed words of support.

The council stares at Jace in anticipation to finally make an appearance in this war. Rhaenyra has been gone for days without so much as a word while Jace and Beala are getting eaten alive by the men surrounding this table. Daemon is doing Gods know what in Harrenhal while we’re on the brink of battle.

“The Riverlands grow restless, my Prince. The Blackwoods and Brackens are at each other’s throats. There’s been no word from Daemon so we must assume no one is there to rally them together.” Lord Massey states with a clipped tone.

“We must send a dragon to amass them to our cause. Or to help the Blackwoods defeat the Brackens. Regardless something needs to be done and soon.” Lord Celtigar nods his head and looks around at his fellow vultures.

“Y/N take Silverwing.” Jace turns to me. “Go to Raventree Hall. Speak with Bejicot Blackwood and do whatever it takes to get him and his men to join our other army. If you can get the Brackens to bend the knee: Great. If not: Burn them. We are done sitting aside in this war.” Jace says with a boisterous voice.

“I heartedly agree with this decision.” Lord Emmon nods his head along with the other Lords.

“Then I shall see you when I return victorious, brother.” I smile to Jace. “Sister.” I smile and nod to Baela before exiting the war room.

Once in my chambers I hastily pack a couple of bags. I change into my riding armor and place my sword in its sheath down my back. I dart down the stairs to greet Silverwing before anyone changes their mind on sending us out. My dragon and I have been itching to take to the skies and begin bending knees.

“Hello, my beautiful girl.” I coo as I approach her and offer her pats. “We’ve finally been given leave.” I say with a playful tone as she chuffs and turns to me.

I quickly mount her and she brings us to the lip of the cave. As she steps over the ledge she lets us free fall which always makes my heart drop. Her wings catch the breeze and we shoot forward as I wildly laugh while clinging to her.

During the flight to the Riverlands I keep my eyes peeled for any armys. I have yet to see anything concerning, but keep a vigilant watch nonetheless. We fly a couple miles away from Harrenhal, but we still faintly hear Caraxes high pitched song.

We thankfully hear no other dragons and have no vision on any army’s as we begin our approach on Raventree Hall. Silverwing circles the castle and gives out a fearsome cry before landing on the outskirts of the city walls. I leave my bags attached to the saddle incase I don’t receive the welcome I’m expecting. Once I make it to solid ground guards start to approach, but keep their distance as they take in my dragon hovering behind of me.

“I come as an extension of the Crown. I must speak with your Lord at once.” I look to the guards expectantly.

“And which Crown might that be?” one guard is brave enough to question me.

“The only rightful Crown. That sits atop my mother’s head. Queen Rhaenyra.” my tone clipped as I start to approach and then men back up.

“I’m sorry, Princess.” they all bow their heads deeply as they bend the knee to my mothers cause. “These are strange times.”

“Indeed.” I hum as I look down at them.

“I’ll go get Lord Benjicot.” one guard raises his head and rushes through the gate behind him.

I turn back to Silverwing and she seems to roll her eyes at the men behind of us. I climb back to retrieve my bags and offer her words of praise and thanks for a smooth flight. As I turn to dismount once more there is a handsome man looking up at me with a slack jaw. I look down at him with low lids and wicked smile.

“Who might you be?” I call down to him as I toss my bags next to him.

“Lord Benjicot Blackwood, Ben if you wish.” he calls up to me as he falls to his knees. I smirk as I slide down the side of Silverwing and stand in front of him as he continues to look at my boots.

“Rise, Ben.” I say hushed as his eyes travel up my body until they lock with mine.

“Is it too forward to say that I much like this position?” Ben offers me a wink and devilish smirk.

“Is that so?” I hum as I bring my hand to the side of his cheek. He grabs my hand with his own and brings it to his mouth to place a kiss on the back. He rises and towers above me never breaking our eye contact.

“What can I do for you, Princess?” he asks, smirk still plastered on his face.

“I wish to have an audience with you and your advisors in the council chambers.” I remove my hand from his and get to the more pressing matters. “I should also like live feed brought for my dragon. She’s hungry and I wouldn’t want her to pick through your men.” I looks to him expectantly waiting to be invited inside.

“Yes,” he clears his throat. “I’ll have some of my guards bring some cattle. Will she harm them?” he whispers the last part to me.

“Not unless they deserve it.” I chuckle as I grab my bags.

“Perfect.” Ben claps his hands together. “Then let’s have a meeting.” he takes my bags from my hands and leads me into the gate.

He hands my bags to servants and tells them to have them brought to the guest chambers. He leads me straight to the council chambers and offers me the seat next to him. Slowly members begin to filter into the room and once everyone takes their seat Ben rises.

“Gentlemen, this is Y/n Targaryen. Queen Rhaenyras first daughter. Rider of Silverwing.” he tells them, his words sounding like adoration.

“As I’m sure you’re all aware war is on the horizon, if not already here. After the battle of the burning mill it’s clear tensions have been high. I want to thank you for fighting in the name of my mother. I am here to ask you to pick up your swords for her again.” I look to all of them to read their expressions.

“What do you propose we do?” one of his advisors asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Call your banners and follow me and Silverwing to the Brackens. I shall ask them to bend the knee to the rightful Queen. If they refuse I shall burn them at your sides and we will continue on to meet the rest of our army to continue to battle and glory.” I say hoping they accept my more than generous offer.

“And what if the Brackens bend the knee? You expect us to fight alongside them?” another advisor speaks up, disgust heavy in his voice.

“I expect you to fight for your Queen.” my voice rises as I stand looking to him.

“We will fight for you. I’m just not sure if the Brackens share the same sentiment, Princess.” Ben adds, eyes shooting daggers to the advisor who spoke to me in such a manner.

“Then they’ll die.” I say flatly as I reclaim my seat.

“Then it’s settled.” Ben announces as no one else has any other grievances. “I’ll be able to have my men ready in two days time.” he nods his head to me.

“Excellent. I have nothing further to discuss at this moment.” I say waving my hand.

Ben dismisses his advisors and servants flood in and offer me beverages and food. I accept a cup of wine and sigh as I lean back into my chair. This went smoother than I anticipated, but I still think there will be work to do to prepare the Blackwoods before I ask the Brackens to bend the knee.

“I must send a raven to Dragonstone.” my eyes glide to Ben who has been staring at me.

“Yes, of course.” he rises from his chair quickly causing the legs to groan against the stone. “I’ll fetch you some parchment and ink.” he rushes out the door and leaves me blinking after him.

I scribble out a note to Jace and tell him of what’s happened and how I expect the meeting with the two hosts to go. I tell him I’ve secured the Blackwoods and intend to try my best with the Brackens but make no explicit promises. I seal it with red ink and hand it off directly to the maester.

“Allow me to show you to your chambers.” Ben says offering me his arm.

I look him over and decide it’s not terrible if I hang off of his arm like a simpering fool for a couple of days. There’s something alluring about him. I can feel the violence bubbling under the surface which excites me to no end. He begins to parade us down the halls with a ridiculous smile on his face as he looks down to every man we pass.

“Here we are, Princess.” he hums as we stop in front of a large set of double doors.

He opens the doors and escorts me in. I spot my bags on a chair near the freshly lit hearth. I peer into the bathing chambers and hum in appreciation at the small pool I have for a bath. Candles are lit throughout the chambers making them feel warm and inviting beside the dark stone and wood.

“I’ll admit I’m surprised you brought me to my own chambers and not yours.” I turn to Ben smiling as I see his cheeks redden.

“Is that disappointment I hear?” Ben cocks his head, matching my smile.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I playfully roll my eyes.

“Change and I’ll show you around Raventree Hall.” Ben’s smile lingers on his face. “If you want.” he backtracks slightly nervous.

“Come collect me in an hour.” I smile as his eyes alight with excitement as he slips out of my chambers.

Why couldn’t Jace send me to a house without such a handsome flirt of a Lord. I sigh out as I fall back into my bed. I rise and begin to remove my armor. I place my sword on the bed unsure if I’m ready to not have it on my person, armor or gown. I slip into a black form fitting gown and settle for a hidden dagger on my thigh. The sheath can only be seen if one is looking for it or if their hands found themselves traveling somewhere they shouldn’t. I braid my silver hair out of my face and leave the rest flowing down my back. I go to the couch and watch out the window until Ben comes to get me.

“Princess?” Ben’s voice carries through the door followed by a couple knocks.

“Come.” I call as I begin to rise off of the couch. Ben stands in the doorway staring at me with wide eyes. “Is this not appropriate for a tour? I can change.” I look down smoothing my dress slightly embarrassed and confused.

“No,” he breathes out. “No, you look perfect Princess.” his eyes meet mine and I can feel my cheeks flush at his compliment.

“Thank you.” I look up to his eyes and smile softly.

“A true Targaryen beauty.” he hums as he places a kiss on my hand lowering his head.

“You honor me, Lord Benjicot.” I say flustered at his words and actions.

“Ben,” he corrects me, smirking.

“Ben.” his name falls off of my tongue breathlessly.

“Come, let me show you my home.” Ben offers me his arm, which I accept as he leads me out of my chambers.

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Ben and I shamelessly flirt over the next two days as we ready our host. We plan strategies with his advisors on the best way to go about speaking with the Brackens. I’ve flown Silverwing near the border and seen the host they’re amassing for themselves. I’ll admit I hope to turn them to my mother’s cause but I can only do so much. This feud between these two house has lasted many generations and I’m not sure that the presence of a dragon will make much of a difference.

Jace has sent back word confirming and allowing me leave to do what must be done to secure a host from the Riverlands. There has been no word on Rhaenyra much to my concern and frustration. Hopefully the next time I see her I’ll have an army raised in her name. I send another raven back stating I plan to meet the Bracken host on the morrow and will send him word of the outcome.

“Are you scared?” Ben asks me, looking over his cup of wine as we dine alone.

“I think Silverwing and I can handle this.” I shrug, biting my lip.

“I know you both can. Doesn’t mean you can’t be scared.” he offers me a soft smile.

“Is it bad to admit that I am?” I asked hushed looking to him.

“No, it makes you smart. I haven’t seen you fight or duel. But from looking at the armor and sword you wore the first time I laid eyes on you, I would say you’re no stranger to what may come.” he surmises looking to me intently.

“I do well with a blade, better with fire.” I smile deviously. “How do you fare? Are you scared, Ben?” my smile widens as I suck in my bottom lip.

“Why should I be scared? I have a Targaryen Princess and her dragon flying above me. I think I can manage with a blade from below.” his eyes filled with shameless admiration as he looks to me.

“Don’t be so humble. I’ve heard your nickname and stories throughout your host.” I raise my eyebrow to him across the table.

“What nickname is that? I’m afraid there’s a few floating around.” he chuckles lowly.

“All I’ve heard is the whispers of Bloody Ben leading them to victory. How you come out of battle covered in blood with a wicked smile painted through it.” I look to him as his smile widens.

“Does that scare you?” he tilts his head studying me.

“Not in the slightest.” I gently shake my head.

“We shall see if that’s true on the morrow.” he hums, still looking over my face. “Allow me to escort you to your chambers.” he rises and walks over to help me rise from my chair.

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I rise early in the morning before the sun has started to rise. I begin fastening my hair into two long braids that flow down my back. I begin to stretch out some before covering myself in my armor. Once everything is secured I slide my blade down my back and check to make sure I have everything I should need. I quickly exit my chambers and as I’m turning the corner I clash into a man.

“Good morning.” I look up at Ben’s voice as his arms steady mine as I sway. “I was just coming to wake you.” he smiles still holding on to me.

“I always break fast with Silverwing before we do something strenuous. Would you like to join us?” I offer with a soft smile.

“I’d be honored, Princess.” he bows his head lowly as I playfully push him back.

“I thought we were done with the formalities, Lord Benjicot.” I chuckle as he regains his composure.

“Oh no, you will always be my Princess.” he licks his lips as I feel my cheeks start to heat.

“Mm, your Princess?” I raise my eyebrows trying to pretend my cheeks aren’t the color of dragon fire.

“Yes, mine.” he says lowly as he pinches one of my cheeks. “Come, let’s go get some cattle for Silverwing. I want to make sure she’s well fed for today, along with you, my Princess.” he whispers my title into my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

I follow after him as he takes us to the dining hall. He tells a servant to have a couple plates made for us and brought out near Silverwing for us to eat. He leads us out of his castle and over to the rows of stables and barns. He offers men more than enough coin and soon we have five cattle trailing behind us as we make our way to Silverwing.

As we approach we see our breakfast laid on a blanket near my sleeping dragon who is now starting to wake at my approach. Ben lingers by our breakfast with the string of cows as I approach her. I rub her snout and walk down the length of her body to her tail, trailing my hand all the way. She begins to stir and offers small chuffs. As I walk back to her head she nudges her snout into me and huffs out.

“Oh come on, it’s not that early.” I chuckle as I scratch under her jaw. “That handsome man over there has brought you some gifts.” I hum as she rises her head and looks to Ben.

I nod my head encouragingly to Ben to bring over the cows. He walks over with a stiff spine but is sure to show no fear. Silverwing stares down at him as I walk to his side. She looks at both of us and comes to eye level. I look to Silverwing like a mother warning her child to be nice.

“He’s not your treat, he’s mine. He brought these cattle for you to indulge yourself on.” Silverwing chuffs at us and turns to the cows waiting for us to back away.

“Come.” I say, pulling Ben away.

Once we’re a safe distance away Silverwing dowses the cattle in fire until they’re burnt to a crisp. She lays back down with a thud and leisurely begins to eat her meal. Ben looks on at the scene as I leave his side to return to our breakfast. He claims a seat next to me, still looking to Silverwing.

“So how does that work? She can understand you?” Ben asks taking a sip of juice.

“She can understand me, yes. We have this sort of bond. It’s like a mutual respect of each other’s feelings and boundaries. Kind of as if our souls are molded together as one.” I look to my beautiful dragon as I speak with admiration.

“I can’t even begin to imagine the strength it takes to do that. To command the skies with her. You both are just so other-worldly.” Ben looks to me with reverence.

Silverwing chirps a soft song at Ben’s words and she continues to feast upon her cattle. I smile at her acceptance and happily eat the meal prepared for me. We eat in a comfortable silence as the men begin to rise for the upcoming day.

After we finish our breakfast Ben goes to speak with his fellow commanders and finalize the plan. I lounge with Silverwing watching the men run around camp. She grumbles when some walk a little to closer for her liking and I chuckle as they’re quick to run back. Once everyone seems scarce I rise and see that they have begun to fall into lines ready to march.

“It’s almost time for us to fly. I know not what today holds for us, but I know we will be victorious.” I talk to Silverwing patting her as I start to mount.

“A moment, my Princess.” Ben calls from afar and I turn to see him running to me.

“Yes?” I return to the ground and await for him to come to me.

“I seek your favor.” he pants, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “For luck, on our endeavors.” his cheeks become red from more than just his short run.

“I-“ I pat my armor knowing I have nothing on me to offer him. “I have nothing on me to-“ Silverwing chuffs and snaps a cattle bone, looking to us expectantly.

“Thank you, my beautiful Silverwing.” Ben smiles widely at my dragon as he bends down to claim the now bone knife from her claws.

“It seems she’s taken a liking to you.” I gasp as Silverwing nudges my back pushing me into Ben.

“And what of you?” he hums holding me.

“I suppose I have.” I try to look anywhere but in his eyes as my face heats.

“You have what?” he asks with a smirk, tilting my chin with his fingers so I have to look at him.

“Taken a liking to you.” I reply breathlessly looking at him through my lashes.

“May I have your favor?” Ben looks to my lips and then to my eyes in a silent question to which I nod my head vigorously.

His lips crash down into mine and his teeth are quick to bite down on my lower lip. I gasp out and his tongue slips into my mouth to dance with mine. One of his hands finds its way to the back of my neck molding me to him. He pulls back from my mouth as our breath mingles. I kiss him quickly one more time and a smile splits across his face. He kisses my forehead softly and steps back from me.

“Our host awaits your command, my Princess.” he looks at me with heavy lids.

“Begin marching, we should make it to Stone Hedge a little after midday. If you don’t see me, we’re in the clouds, but I’ll always be above you. I will see you for negotiations.” I nod to him.

“Understood. I will see you in a couple of hours.” he returns my nod, his cheeks still slightly flushed.

“Do not die today.” I call out as he begins to walk away.

“Your wish is my command.” he turns to me and bows deeply before continuing back to his men.

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I fly ahead of the Blackwood host to see if there are any traps waiting for us. We have a clear path directly to Stone Hedge. I hear no other dragons in our vicinity and sigh in relief. As we approach the outskirts we fly in closer to see if there are any scorpions that I should take out before even thinking of landing in an open field. I mark no weapons of note that make me unsure of my landing.

I circle back to our host and coast on the breeze as they make their way closer. They stop on the other side of the Brackens wooden barricade and await for my arrival. I fly over the approaching Bracken host taking in their numbers. We have about couple hundred more swords than they do and a dragon so I have no worry. Silverwing gives out a high pitched screech and the Blackwood hosts recedes allowing us land in front of them.

As we approach I can see the Brackens pushing back to their gates and chuckle. I slide out of my saddle and make my way to solid ground. The Blackwood host looks at me as if I’m a goddess stepping onto their battle field to bless them.

“How was the flight? What did you gather from up there?” Ben peppers me with questions on approach.

“We have more swords than they do. There were no weapons of note that I was worried about or we wouldn’t have landed here. On approach they pulled back. I’m going to have to lure the Lord out.” I list off what I’ve observed from the skies.

“Noted.” Ben nods his head. “And how was the flight?” his face softens as he smiles.

“Absolutely delightful.” my smile matches his as I look back to Silverwing.

“I’m glad to hear.” he looks down at me tenderly.

“Let’s go see if there’s a way to talk this through.” I sigh and begin leading us to the barricade.

As we begin walking to the middle I see small group of men approaching from the Bracken side. We wait at the edge expectancy and they stop a couple hundred feet away. I groan out in annoyance as I climb over the wooden fence. Ben is right behind of me as we cross the line.

“Thank you for meeting us away from your beast.” one of them says foolishly.

“My beast?” I bark out a laugh at his audacity. “She’s had quite the large breakfast, but surely she could always eat more?” I tilt my head, squinting my eyes at him.

“What is it that you’re here for?” Lord Bracken steps out from behind his men.

“Bend the knee to my mother, the rightful Queen of the realm. Join your host with hers and ride with her into battle and glory.” I hold my chin high as I study them as they take in my words.

“Alongside Blackwoods?” Lord Bracken scoffs looking to Ben.

“Alongside fellow Queensmen.” I correct through my teeth trying to cool my temper at his tone and disrespect. I’m trying to avoid what I know is coming and soon I won’t have patience for words anymore.

“What do I get in return? Her brazen daughter who stands to inherit nothing? Does she truly think your cunt is worth my army?” Lord Bracken looks at me with a smile as his words slam into me.

“As if you would’ve ever deserved her.” Ben breathes out in a chuckle and he lunges at Lord Bracken and slams the cow bone knife into the side of his throat. “You don’t speak to her like that.” he grits out twisting the bone.

The world slows as the next seconds play out in front of me. He pulls the bone out as blood splatters across his face he quickly slams it into the leg of the man next to him. I quickly grab my blade from my back and slice open the man who began to run towards Ben. The last man grabs me harshly and I grab the dagger from my ribs and slam it up into his jaw. I pull the dagger out of the man’s jaw causing blood to spray across my face. Time resumes normally and I’m quick to hear shouts from either side of the army.

“Get to Silverwing.” Ben shouts to me as he turns to face the army pulling out his long sword.

As I run back to the barricade men begin pouring over and running past me. They keep a clear path away from my dragon and I’m able to get to her quickly. I clip into the saddle and she shoots us into the air. We fly low as I look on at the brazen violence. We fly near the back of their lines so they’re not safe on any front.

“Dracarys Silverwing.” I cry out and the entirely of the back of their host is doused in dragon flame.

As I look down I see burning men running for their life. I fly to undefended western side of the Bracken host and Silverwing is quick to bathe them in flame. After burning as many as I could without getting too close to Blackwood men we circle our host and land at the back. I quickly dismount from Silverwing preparing to go into the thick of the battle.

A horn blows and all fighting ceases. I climb back up Silverwing to look on at the bloody mess to see what’s going on. I see my mother’s flag raised in the center of the field. I lay back into my saddle and smile that everything is done. I dismount once more and wait at Silverwings feet for Ben to come find us and tell us of his victory.

“My Princess.” Ben’s voice carries through the crowd as they part to make way for him.

“Bloody Ben indeed.” I hum as I look over him in his disheveled state.

“You’ve got a bit on you too.” he smiles wiping at my face.

“How did it go out there?” I ask pulling back to look him over, scanning for any injuries.

“Very good.” he nods and I can still feel the adrenaline pouring off of him. “You and Silverwing did so well. Amazing to be honest.” he showers me with praise causing my cheeks to redden under the blood.

“Thank you.” I reply bashfully.

“Blushing like I didn’t watch you stab a man in the jaw.” his eyes worship me as he shakes his head.

“You are such a fool for doing what you did.” my eyes narrow on him remembering the start of this.

“I was willing to listen to what he wanted until he brought you into it.” he says approaching me. “I told you that you’re mine.” he says only audible for me.

“Ben-“

“You as a person are worth more than any army. Or any kingdom. Or any realm.” he whispers to me. “I would’ve fought alongside all of them if it meant I could stay by your side.” his eyes scan my face as it softens.

My hands reach up to bring his face down to mine. I place a soft kiss on his lips and pull back to look up at him. He captures my lips once more and pulls me tightly to him. Men begin to cheer and clap around us much to my embarrassment. I pull back giggling as he continues to pepper kisses around my face.

We separate and begin to assess the losses. We were fortunate not to take many causalities or injuries. Ben’s most trusted men take the castle at Stone Hedge and raise my mother’s banners in the usurpers stead. Once the castle is deemed safe we walk through the gates.

Upon entering the castle we have a servant lead us the council chambers and see if there was any information left about the Greens movements. Ben’s advisors join us for a debriefing and I quickly write out a note to send to Jace of our victory in the taking of Stone Hedge and raising an army.

Ben dismisses his advisors and then it’s just the two of us lingering. I take in his bloodied state and shake my head. I know I’m not in a much better state either and begin to rise to seek a servant to make me a bath.

“Where are you off to?” Ben is quick to rise at my side.

“To find a bath. I suggest you do the same.” I raise an eyebrow to him as a smile plays at my lips.

“We could bathe together.” Ben whispers against my lips.

“Mm, come find me once you’re clean, Lord Benjicot.” I smirk against his lips and then slip out of the council chambers leaving him alone.

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A moan slips from my lips as I sink into the hot water. I scrub at my skin and splash water against my face watching the water turn pink and then maroon. I pick my nails clean and once I’m satisfied I rise out of the water wrapping a towel around my body. I groan as I remember the only thing a servant could seem to find me is a sheer slip.

I throw my towel to the ground and huff out as the slip only reaches to the top of my thighs. I make my way over to the vanity and begin to take my braids out. I praise the gods that my hair was spared from the blood. I shake my hair out helping relieve some of the tension that remains. I begin to make my way to my bed as there’s a knock at my door.

“Yes?” I ask from the other side of the door not wanting to be seen in such an exposed state.

“I’m clean.” Ben chuckles from the other side of the door. I crack open the door and take in his freshly bathed state.

“Of course they’d be able to find you proper clothing.” I roll my eyes and allow him in.

“You are absolutely divine.” Ben’s eyes finally land on mine after drinking in my exposed body.

“You clean up nicely yourself.” I appreciate his clean face and body as he stalks over to me.

“My Princess.” he breathes out as he kneels before me, his breath fanning across my thighs.

“Hmm?” I hum, looking down at him as my fingers travel through his hair.

“May I taste you?” he asks softly as his hands trail up my bare legs.

“Please, Ben.” I reply breathlessly nodding my head.

As he rises from his knees, he takes my slip with him. I stand before him completely bare as his eyes dart across my body. I help him remove his clothes as we make our way to the bed. He pushes me on the bed when the back of my knees hit it. He kneels before me once more and pulls my core directly to his awaiting mouth.

“Fuck,” I cry as his tongue lashes against my clit.

With every swirl of his tongue my hips are rising off the bed. One of his hands finds its way between my thighs and he teases two fingers at my entrance. His slowly pushes his two digits in as whimpers fall from my mouth. He begins to pump in and out of me slowly as my hips grind onto his face and hand.

“Ben, please,” I whine as he begins a fast pace.

I lose myself to the pleasure as my moans travel throughout my chambers. My thighs quake at his relentless pace as his name pours from my lips. I explode around his fingers as his tongue continues to lick softly at my clit.

“Ben,” I breathless sob as my hand pulls his hair harshly away from my sensitive bud.

“You taste so good, I could eat you all night.” he places soft kisses on my thighs.

He snakes his way up my body and claims my mouth in a heated kiss. I feel his hardened length slide through my wetness causing me to whine. He chuckles against my lips as my hips continue to squirm.

“Are you ready, my Princess?” he whispers against my lips as he lines himself up at my entrance.

“Yes, please,” I arch my hips up to his begging for friction.

A moan tears through me as he slides into me. He wastes no time and fully pushes himself into me. The stretch of him causes my eyes to screw shut as I focus on the feel of him. I begin to slowly rock my hips once I’ve adjusted and he claims my lips once more as he starts to move his hips.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” he plants against my lips as his pace increases.

My legs wrap around his waist as I cling to him as he continues to pull pleasure from my body. His hips snap into mine at the new angle, stealing my breath. Our breathes become one as our hips meet in a rhythm that has us both panting. Pleasure washes over me, catching me off guard as my nails dig into Ben’s shoulder.

“Fuck, princess.” he grits through his teeth as he keeps pounding into me.

Tears begin to prick at the edges of my eyes from the pleasure he’s repeatedly wringing from my body. One of his hands slide between us and attach to my sensitive bud. I cry out and clench around him and he groans into my neck. I feel him begin to fill me as his hips falter and I explode around him once more, his name falling from my lips as if it’s the only word I know.

“You did so good for me, my Princess.” he whispers as he slowly pulls out.

He pulls me to his side and covers us with the blankets. I curl into his side and hum at his words of adoration and praise. My eyes begin to feel too heavy as I allow sleep to consume me.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Part 2

full masterlist here

ongoing aemond fic plug tho

[cosmitton]

benjicot blackwood enemies/rival to lovers (?) with bracken!reader headcanons

A/N: I originally started writing this the day after the episode with “Benji” came out and never finished it until today, lol, so it’s not a very original idea. Sorry lol.

I know that he might not be Benji and that the show called him Davos, but idc idc idc. I think he fits as an aged-up Benji so that’s what he’ll be to me lol. Maybe if they give us actual Benji later in the show, I’ll come back to edit this to Davos. You can think of this as either Benji or Davos, it’s up to you but I’m referring to him as Benji.

Also, I can’t believe that the first thing I’m writing for HOTD is just because of this rabid squirrel that was on screen for maybe 5mins LMAO

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!F!Reader

Enemies/Rivals to Lovers(?)

Warnings: nsfw (not full-on smut, just a bit I think), a little violence, Benji being a little shit lol, reader is easily irritated oop-

As with pretty much everyone in House Bracken, you were raised to hate the Blackwoods

Regardless of whether or not anyone even remembered why at this point

As a woman, naturally there were a lot of people that opposed to you learning how to fight or participating in battle

No matter how hard you fought for it, it wasn’t your place

But you weren’t the type to just accept being pushed aside so easily

And, oddly enough, Benji was different from the other men you knew

He didn’t seem to care very much that you were a woman fighting, he just wanted someone to talk shit to

He cared more that you were a Bracken, and, even more than that, you were fun to fight and mess with

At this point, you couldn’t remember when or how this started, but it was a relatively regular occurrence for the two of you to butt heads

Occasionally coming to physical blows

Like right now

Benji really needed to learn how to shut up if he didn’t want to get punched in the face

Though he would probably say the same about you

Despite the fact that you both had swords you could’ve used, you both have a tendency to use fists with each other

“Here you spend all your time trying to prove yourself a fighter and that’s the best you can do? What a shame, Bracken.”

“Fuck yourself, Blackwood. You can prattle all you want but you have yet to draw blood when I have.”

Benji laughs, not even bothering to wipe that blood from his mouth

You try to ignore what the sight of him bloody does to you

“I’m merely being kind. We both know how much you enjoy having your hands on me. Who am I to deprive you?”

You can feel the heat creeping up your neck and into your face, but before you can respond, Benji is suddenly much closer to you

You didn’t realize how fast he could be

“Although, I’m sure we could figure out a much better way to have your hands on me if you’re so desperate.”

You’re stubbornly trying to ignore the feelings his deeper, raspy voice inspires in your belly

Instead you focus on the rage that hits you immediately

You’re both long past decorum at this point, so you don’t think twice before rushing him to tackle him to the ground

Benji’s still laughing, seeming to think this is all a game

You’re rolling around on the grass now, both of you trying to gain the upper hand on the other

For a moment, Benji uses his weight to pin you down

“I knew you couldn’t resist rolling around with me. We could find some place more comfortable-”

You bite his hand that’s pinning your shoulder

When he pulls away with a sound that’s halfway between amused and surprised, you throw your weight to roll him over

“Give up now, Blackwood, and I won’t cave your skull in.”

“You’d never harm my face, you enjoy it too much.”

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you, would that you could back it up.”

“Oh, you like my mouth, don’t you, Bracken? Don’t worry, I could show you just how talented it is if you’re so interested.”

You go to punch him before you come to a realization

Benji’s just laying there

He isn’t even trying to get up or throw you off

“What are you doing?”

“What?”

“You’re not even attempting to push me off.”

Benji grins and you immediately regret asking in the first place

“Why would I? I can get on board with you being on top if you so wish to be.”

You’re exasperated, what did you expect

You roll your eyes, frustrated that you’re not getting anywhere with this

Ignoring that you’re also frustrated because of the images his words conjure and, he’s right, you wouldn’t mind being on top either

“You’re a fool.”

You get up to walk away from him

You should’ve expected that Benjicot Blackwood wouldn’t give up so easily

He scrambles to tackle you by the knees and you catch yourself before you faceplant into the ground

Benji’s weight lands against your back and presses your chest down, your arms folded between the grass and your body

“Blackwood! Get the fuck off of me!”

His laugh is right next to your ear now and you hate the way it sends a thrill down your spine

“Come now, little spitfire, you’re running already?”

“I’d never run from a craven like you! I’ve just decided you’re not worth my time.”

You’re trying to wriggle out from underneath him, embarrassed by the way the warmth of his body encompasses yours

“Careful, you might hurt my feelings.”

“I’ll hurt you in much worse ways than that if you don’t get up immediately.”

You try to push yourself up by your arms, but that just presses you against him even more

And he makes a noise that’s like a sigh and a groan

Gods

That noise should not make your face warm and your thighs tingle the way it does

You’re both frozen now, unsure what to do with that new development

He drops his head so that it’s pressed against your neck and shoulder now

“…Ben?”

“I told you to be careful…” his voice is much deeper now, and you can feel it rumble from his chest and through your back

You could also feel something pressed against your ass

“What are you doing?” You ask again, because you don’t know what else to say

“Nothing.” He replies, but you can feel his hands on your waist now

You refuse to acknowledge the fact that you’re not trying to get away from him anymore

His hands start to move slowly up toward your chest, as if giving you a chance to tell him to back off

You don’t

You can feel his breath against your skin from where his face is tucked against your neck still

You’re breathing hard by the time his hands reach your chest

You know he can feel it because you can feel his smile against you

But he’s breathing hard too

Still, the idea that he’s affecting you more than you’re affecting him annoys you so you press yourself back against him harder

You’re rewarded with the same low noise he made earlier and you feel the same tingles between your thighs

He must take this as a challenge, too, because one of his hands moves to your thigh and squeezes

“Must I warn you yet again to be careful?” Benji breathes

“You may as many times as you wish, however I may not listen.”

He laughs breathlessly and presses himself harder against you, pushing you against the ground

In response, you press back again

And you two continue like that, pushing and pulling like the ocean, rhythmic

His hand moves further up your thigh, pressing between them

Your legs part further without thought

You’re not thinking of much but Benji anymore

The movements of his hips are getting more frantic, his breathing heavier

His hand finally slips down the trousers you’re wearing to touch your skin directly

And you learn that Benjicot Blackwood doesn’t know how to shut up even now

“Gods, I always wondered how soft you’d be.”

“I knew you’d be so warm, I dreamt about it.”

“I bet you’re so beautiful, too. Pretty little princess.”

“So wet, gods, have you thought about this as much as I have?”

You wondered if he even knew what he was saying at this point, considering it all just sounded like rambling now

But you also couldn’t deny it, you had thought about this multiple times – even in your dreams

You have no awareness of how quiet or loud the noises you’re making might be right now

Probably for the best, though – you’d most likely be embarrassed

Either way, you know Benji can still hear you because he won’t stop smiling

If you weren’t so distracted by his fingers right now, you’d punch his smug face again

He’s lucky his hands make up for his personality

You’re almost nervous by the feeling that’s quickly creeping up on you right now – having never experienced it before and unsure of what exactly will happen

He must notice by the way that you’re squirming, almost trying to get away

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, kissing your neck, “I’ve got you. I’m here, relax.”

You figure he must know more about it than you, which isn’t exactly surprising from what you’ve heard about what boys his age typically get up to at night

So you relax and give into the feelings he conjures in you with his fingers

He must be feeling similar things by the low moan-breaths he’s making and the quickening of his hips

You gasp, pressing your mouth against the back of your hand that grips the grass underneath you, when that building pressure finally snaps

Your thighs, almost on instinct, start to close around his hand that doesn’t stop moving between them

But his other hand moves to squeeze at your hip when his finally still, pressing his open mouth against your neck as he gasps lowly

His hips finally slow, seeming to come back to the world as you do

He’s still softly touching you, until you start to feel a bit too sensitive and squirm away

You’re both silent for a moment, aside from your harsh breaths

And now that you’re back to reality – you’re faced with one question more important than the others

Where do you two go from here?

[astaldis]

Why is House of the Dragon allegedly so much better than The Witcher?

Just watched House of the Dragon S2 and I must say - I found it pretty boring in many parts?

Sorry, but the whole thing mostly and disappointingly feels like a very long and repetitive prologue to what might come in S3. And they do many things that are loudly criticised in The Witcher, some even a lot worse, but with HotD people seem to not mind? Honestly, this really puzzles me. Yes, the costumes and make-up might be better, but:

It's all over the place on the whole continent of Westeros and even outside of Westeros with people traveling from place to place in no time at all. OK, on dragon back, you can do that, but they also do it on foot and by boat. I remember some of the geography of the continent because I was very much into Game of Thrones some years back when it aired and also read all the Song of Ice and Fire books that were available (not the ones HotD is based on though), but the constant jumps from one place to the next are really confusing imo and you'd need to have a map by your side all the time to remember where is what. When the Witcher does that, it is criticised heavily.

Same with people, there are so many main and minor characters, some even with similar or the same names, how the fuck are you supposed to remember who's who and who is related to who and how, who belongs to which house, and who's allied to who and who's feuding who without looking it up again all the time somewhere on the internet? With all the incest and extramarital activities resulting in a host of illegitimate progeny, I found this extremely confusing, a lot more so than in The Witcher.

And does anybody have a shimmer of an idea of how much time has passed since the old king's death? Must be at least months but you hardly ever get any hints about it. And this poor girl, how long is she wandering around the desolate highlands alone trying to find the wild dragon? Must have been weeks judging by the other things that happened in the meantime ...

Maybe it's just me, but I did not find any of the characters really compelling. Not that they are not well acted, the acting is good enough, but emotionally they did not really leave any impression on me. Maybe the only character I find a bit interesting is Queen Helaena and this very young Lord Tully who shows unexpected spine and stands up to Daemon in front of the Riverlords. There are so many seemingly random new side characters popping up all over the place, too, miraculously gaining importance that one is supposed to keep track of, but also none of them that was in any way inspiring it me. And the poor cute Bracken knight only drew his sword and was already dead in the mud on a battlefield with hundreds of men hardly a second later ...

Rhaenyra suddenly and out of the blue kisses this lowborn woman (was her name even mentioned? I cannot for the life of me remember it). I don't have anything against women kissing, not at all, but why? There is no mention of anything going on between those two at all afterwards. Are they in a secret relationship now or not? I haven't read the book and don't know if it's in there, but how is that kiss, as it seems to have no relevance to the plot at all, not 'woke' catering to the LGBTQ community? But everything the Witcher does is?

Then there are the dragons you have to keep track of in addition to the many people and places. How many dragons are there? And who rides which one? And why the heck would a dragon in its right mind choose this dubious Ulf character who accidentally stumbles into its cave as a rider???

And the plot? Honestly, was there, beside the one fight between the three dragons, anything that was really exciting? I remember nothing, no battles, no good sword fights, nothing but TALK. At lest 90% of the plot is repetitive talking about politics and plotting and scheming. I have nothing against a nice political intrigue and of course that's what happens at courts and it can be interesting too. It was in Game of Thrones where you had really interesting characters, too. But here I found it mostly boring and uninspired. And The Witcher is criticised for having too much politics and too many side characters although it has a LOT less so than this season of HotD.

They also seem to have conveniently forgotten that in GoT they established that Targaryans would not burn from fire. In the books this happens only once because some kind of blood magic was performed, but in the show it happened several times, so it seemed to be the rule, not the exception. HotD thus kind of refutes their own made-up lore, which I found confusing and had to look it up online. (They could easily have made Aegon suffer from bad injuries due to the fall instead.)

The music was rather uninspiring, too, imo, except for the intro which is the well-known one taken from GoT and the music at the end of E8 which was partly based on the Rains of Castamere, otherwise there was not a single piece of the soundtack that would make me want to buy and listen to it. The Witcher has quite a few that I listen to again and again (including, of course, Jaskier's songs, but many more).

What I also like a lot better about The Witcher: It does not take itself that seriously and there is quite a bit of humour in it. In HofD S2, the imo funniest piece of dialogue was: "I want you to fuck my wives." - "How many wives do you have?" (that was between this pirate commander, don't remember his/her? name, and Lord Tyland, was that his name?) . And maybe the truest sentence in the show by this random braggart in the tavern who miraculously turns into a dragon rider Ulf: "A sense of humour would do you all good."

All in all, the only thing that I have found to be really good and outstanding about HotD S2 are the dragons. Without them, it would be less than mediocre. I don't think I would want to rewatch it and feel no desire to look up any of the characters and their relationships etc to find out more about them. I cannot say in how far it is or isn't faithful to the source material as I have not read the book(s?) HotD is based on, but even if it's more faithful to the source material, this has failed to make it a great watch like GoT (minus the ending, that was worse than the poorest fanfic could have thought it up). With the dragons it is alright to watch once, hoping for a more exciting S3, but there is absolutely no way it deserves higher critic/audience scores/ratings than The Witcher S3, the contrary.

Update: To clarify, I don't really mind many things that I mentioned about HotD, I can totally live with an unclear timeline and many characters, even if it's not easy to remember every name, relationship etc. If I really like a show or character, I simply look it up, no problem. But these are all things I have seen people criticise The Witcher for on social media, and then they say HotD is so much better. That's what really puzzles me. What I definitely liked about HotD is the diverse cast and that there are many female characters with a lot of screen time and importance. It's not a bad show, only I like The Witcher much better despite its flaws. This is not meant as an anti HotD post but a pro Witcher post.

[rival-ideologies]

So that was probably the most thoughtless, senseless season finale of any show I've ever seen as pertains to the handwaving of literally everything of consequence from its previous episode's events. I mean, thanks for the Not-Bloodraven tree phantom tease and yet another successful infiltration of the enemy HQ just so two literal imbeciles can have yet another pointless chit-chat leading to nothing, but no one really needed any of that. I, the audience, would have really liked to see the ramifications of what now MUST have been the literal murder of a KNIGHT and sitting regent of a major Riverlands House, orchestrated by the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands to show...what? Religious favoritism? A willingness to cave to the demands of his own vassals just to stick it to Daemon Targaryen for meddling in local affairs? The illogicity of the entire affair boggles the mind. So riddle me this, Hess and Condal: WHY would the now-headless House Blackwood march in favor of this crusade when loyalty is a death sentence? WHO in their right minds would submit to being under the command of leaders who would throw you under the bus just to prove a political point, never-minding that the heir to the House is too young to assume direct leadership of said House? Moreover, was execution the ONLY viable "rectification" of the "crime", that we never actually saw but only heard about from a pack of secondhand accounts (all Seven worshippers and from weaker Houses, I might add), for a Knight? Don't Knights get trials by combat as an option if accused of criminal acts? Isn't there a big ol' Wall to opt for? By the laws of the Seven Kingdoms as presented thus far, Willem Blackwood was murdered without just cause or due trial, destabilizing the House he was regent of. House Blackwood can not only totally distrust Daemon Targaryen now, but also distrust House Tully entirely as well as every one of their neighbors, on whose word the Blackwoods stood accused but were not allowed to defend against.

Oh, and thanks for that reminder about the Riverlands "following the old ways", Oscar: did you forget that the old ways dictate that he who passes sentence swings the sword? Way to duck out of that responsibility in addition to now being portrayed as a bad Lord who doesn't stand up for his subjects equally. Yes, I'm mad, and I'm going to stay mad for two entire years.

We'd better get a very angry Black Aly, who just lost ANOTHER brother, and an even angrier Benjicot, who just lost an uncle, bitching at Oscar Tully every five minutes of next season between bouts of pouring cold water on Amos Bracken's head while he's in a stockade, because APPARENTLY treason is more valued than loyalty.

[blankweiss-sb]

Gift "Drabble"

For @hiding-in-the-vault

TW: Prison Arc + Post Prison, references to torture and eye removal

Summary: Eventually, Dream found a cave and hunkered down. He didn’t dare making a fire pit, didn’t know whether he could, but it would surely reveal his position. Instead he curled up in the warmest, most wind-safe spot he could find – and slept.

Or

Dream doesn't escape unscathed – mentally or physically.

The red stone pistons fired, the deep grumble distinctive from the ever present hissing of the lava. Dream didn’t dare lift his head or move his cheeks from the grimy, sticky floor of his cell.

Rule number whatever: Either be on your knees head bowed, or you better not have moved from the position Sir left you in.

Was Dream slightly bitter that even thinking Sir immediately called up an image of Quackity and tides of fear and anger? Yes. Would he show that bitterness? No. (Maybe Quackity would think he’d finally broken Dream but he hadn’t. Dream wasn’t quite broken yet, just brittle and fractured. If – when he got out, he’d just pour gold into all those cracks.)

Faintly, Dream heard it – the rustle of small feathers that could be crushed so very easily, the tapping of fingers against the wooden handle of a tool or weapon and a slight hum, the hum of a song Sap had loved. The lava curtains gurgled – please, red stone, fail, a moment of weakness gave itself a voice – before it fizzled out.

Sir bounced into the cell.

“Hullo, Dreamie, how are you? Comfy?”

Dream knew better than to answer. Quackity didn’t care, he just loved the sound of his voice too much. If Dream was lucky, Quackity would gloat, maybe kick Dream a couple of times and leave. That, Dream could endure, he could endure anything, anything but –

Fingertips stroked along the curve of Dream’s face, the one not pressed against crying obsidian and sticky maroon, and it was only the terrors of existence that prevented Dream from flinching. But nothing could have prevented Dream’s throat from releasing a whine when Quackity gently carded through Dream’s hair, almost petting him like a beloved dog.

“Awww, you’re doing good but being greedy, I see.”

Fuck you. Fuck you, Quackity, Dream thought as his head leaned into the comforting touch Sir was offering. It was his body seeking comfort, not Dream. It was his body being pathetic, wanting his torturer to be gentle. It was his body. Not Dream.

“You can be cute. But that’s not why I’m here, not today, puppy!” Don’t call me that. “I’m giving you a gift, look –“

Quackity burst out in little giggles, giggles Sapnap used to gush about. Sapnap had called them more adorable than a baby piglin. Dream had teased him about that, by that time already missing George pressed against his side and joining in on the fun. Teasing his brother had always been one of Dream’s favorite things and George loved to needle Sapnap, too.

A sharp of burst ripped through Dream’s skull as Quackity’s hand grabbed his hair tightly and pulled Dream up until Dream’s scalp was burning. “Listen to me.”

“Yes, Sir.” Two, three seconds more and Quackity let Dream’s head fall, huffing.

“And here I was about to clean you up, wash you, but no. You had to be bad. A bad puppy.” Dream flinched and Quackity’s laugh was more than delighted, echoing between obsidian walls. “Anyway, here you go, you’re going to need this.”

Something cold settled on Dream’s face and �� comfort washed over Dream as he realized it was the cold porcelain of a mask, a mask Dream knew quite well. Greedily he sucked in some air and through the stale scent of copper coils and bracken water and burnt out embers, he caught a whiff of earthy flowers.

(“Earthy flowers? Are you serious?” Dream had laughed, pressing his shoulders against Sapnap’s. George had already been snoring, his legs hanging over Sapnap’s lap and his head nuzzling Dream’s stomach.

“Man, you asked me how you were smelling. Earthy flowers. Deal with it, it’s sort of disgusting.” But the tips of Sapnap’s ears had been a brilliant red.

“Someone’s lying~ But that’s ok. I like your hearth embers and George’s bark and petrichor, too.”

“Pe – tri – chor,” Sapnap had mocked. Yet he had relaxed into Dream and – they had slept, together and bonds untorn.)

It was Dream’s mask, not a replica, but his own.

Despite this meaning nothing good, Dream sank into old comfort. The safe feeling was soured by Quackity once again running his hands through Dream’s hair. “Things are going to get exciting,” he crowed, no, that’d be an insult to the death goddess and her harbringers, Quackity quacked. “Better to keep a few things mysterious, right? I’ll be generous and let you rest up.”

Dream didn’t know what Quackity meant until the next day when the pistons fired up and someone swaggered over the bridge. The bars slammed down, Techno grunted as he sprung the trap and it clicked in Dream’s mind.

Time passed.

Sir didn’t enter the prison.

How Techno didn’t realize one tiny but largely important fact was beyond Dream but he couldn’t help being grateful.

How Dream managed to escape with Technoblade was also beyond him.

(Sir had managed to shatter Dream – after Technoblade vanished. Sir had not only dug into all the cracks he’d made but also ensured that not even respawning would ever give back Dream’s sight. There had been a slight, incredibly miniscule chance that Dream could have regained his eye sight but… hard to do that without the vital part of eye sight.

Sir had left Dream cold and raw and – there had been moments.

Dream had even hallucinated at one point, must have imagined trembling hands cleaning him up, a lullaby he hadn’t heard since he was ten being sobbed against his ears and a determined vow being seared against his temple. The voice had sounded like Bad, but Bad hated him, guarded him even, offered suggestions like Dream’s loathing of being alone in the dark to Sir. )

“I refuse. You have done more than enough, he can look after himself now.” The coldness in Philza’s screech was more than biting, was cutting when Technoblade didn’t refute his statement.

Once again Dream’s weakness took over and he wasted a minute on hope, begged Technoblade without the right words or gestures but surely, surely Technoblade picked up on it – “See ya later, nerd, stay safe.”

I’m not seeing anything, settled heavy on Dream’s tongue but – Philza was there, feathers scraping against wooden planks. He must be flaring his wings before refolding them. Rinse and repeat.

It wasn’t pride stopping Dream from saying those words. It was Caution. Philza already was irritated with Dream – Dream, objectively, had harmed the man’s family greatly and in various ways. And in an altercation, there was no world in which Technoblade wouldn’t side with Philza.

So Dream bowed, once, the proper Admin way, and darted off into the forest, barely hearing a sudden intake of breath behind him, probably Philza’s. Technoblade wasn’t an Admin, he wouldn’t have known what Dream’s bow had meant.

They didn’t chase after him, anyways.

That first night Dream almost died five times.

The server refused to reconnect to him – a weak Admin was something no World wanted, vulnerability was undesired – and so Dream had to trust his ears and nose, rather than an innate sense of the World.

Twice the rattling of Skeleton bones was barely enough to get ready for the screeching of arrows flying through the air and aiming directly at Dream’s heart. Muscle memory was, thankfully, enough for Dream to land crits against the Skeletons, even though his own frame didn’t differ much from the Skeletons.

Once a zombie almost ripped into Dream’s leg and would have infected him. Dream was already on the ground, having tripped over a root and landing on a patch of ice that sent him careening through the snow. He’d been contemplating just curling up and sleeping when the zombie fell over him. A kick and crit had taken care of the zombie.

Twice, the environment itself, the World – hadn’t that smarted – had turned against him, giving him no warnings as ravines opened up in front of him. Only hearing the echo of stones crumbling and falling, falling, falling before the unbreakable hit the bottom and shattered into a thousand pieces not even gold could glue back together had warned him.

Eventually, Dream found a cave and hunkered down. He didn’t dare making a fire pit, didn’t know whether he could, but it would surely reveal his position. Instead he curled up in the warmest, most wind-safe spot he could find – and slept.

That first night ended and his first day in freedom dawned – judging from the birdsong sneaking through the tree leaves and into Dream’s cave.

Dream didn’t have the energy to stand up.

More hallucinations haunted his sleep – if it was sleep. His body felt too heavy, his thoughts too hazy for him to be sleeping but – at one point, the hallucination of Bad took root in his mind. Dream heard Bad coo, felt Bad heave him into a bed that Dream certainly hadn’t made, cried while Bad tucked him and drew covers tight around him.

“Sleep tight, good dreams will arrive, cupcake,” the hallucination’s voice quivered as rough, scarred fingers slipped underneath Dream’s mask and tugged it off. The hallucination wanted to card through Dream’s hair and it did, detangling the knots, casting Dream’s drifty mind back to the days of happiness and – “Shh, Clay. I’ll protect you, don’t worry.”

Dream wailed, his throat giving out on him. All the while, the hallucination kept touching him, gently, like Bad loved him, like Bad was here, like Bad cared.

(Love and care were two different shoes. Surely, Sapnap and George still loved Dream but they had shown that they didn’t care for him.)

(Dream was forgetting something. Or someone. Heat was lancing through his brain, pain a deliberating force on everything that was him. How his mind still had enough force to call upon a hallucination with the ability to mimic the sensation of touch he didn’t know. But there was someone else, an agenda, Dream was forgetting.)

(Clay hated getting sick, not only because he couldn’t play with Pandas but because he couldn’t help demanding attention. To be fair, Bad would always give it to him.

“I’m dying,” Clay sobbed, writhing against the covers Bad had forced him under. “It’s too hot, it hurts, I am dying!”

“Shh, you silly, silly cupcake.” Bad chuckled, gently stroking over Clay’s head. Those fingers were so good, they spanned half his head and… Bad was starting to mindlessly but gently tug at all of Clay’s knots, tutting whenever another appeared in the long locks of Clay’s hair. “You’ll be ok, I’m here.”

Whenever Bad acted like this, Clay could pretend that Bad wasn’t only Pandas’ Dad but also his own, and fierce, fierce love wrecked Clay’s body together with the many illnesses he suffered.

One day, one day Clay would create a server for them, for Bad and Pandas and himself and anyone else he loved. He knew he was strong enough, as were his convictions and dreams.)

Energy trickled back into Dream, day by day. The hallucination stayed, far longer than Dream expected it to, offering comfort and safety and the weakness was too strong. Dream, shamefully, gave in.

Until one day the rustle of wings, the wind whistling through feathers just outside his and his hallucination’s cave broke the spell.

“Mate?”

Not Sir, not Sir at all but –

“Get out.” His hallucination growled and the air pulsed with heat and old power – and there was no way that Dream’s stitched together mind could have replicate Bad’s aura when he was pissed and protecting someone. (Someone, not something, an important distinction.)

“Bad Boy Halo, I –“

“Leave before I make you leave. You offered no help, worse, you rejected sanctuary.”

“I didn’t know.”

Bad snorted and responded. Philza said words as well but – Dream had already lost the thread, his mind fuzzy with realizations and too full, too broken to comprehend anything. Until –

“Had I known he was blind and a baby Admin, he wouldn’t have left my house!” Feathers hit the stone walls. Or did feathers scrape along obsidian, crying in sync with the dripping walls? Sir was back, wasn’t he –

Scarred hands cradled Dream’s cheeks and a pair of leathery wings sneaked around and under Dream’s frame. The hands didn’t move. They just held his face and provided an anchor for his mind.

“Bad…” How to say the things he had to say, how to ask questions, how –

Dream’s head is pressed to a dark throat and his breath hitched. Too often Dream had been in this position whenever the world got too big, or he got too big for the world and it bared its fangs at him. Being settled against the thrum of Bad’s heart hadn’t rightened all the wrongs in the world but it had always – always – made them manageable.

“I’m here, Dream. Don’t you worry.”

Dream believed him and let himself fall into trust.

One more time.

[go-on-eat-shrooms]

House Blackwood vs House Martell Part II

Part 3

A man shouted from atop to open the gates. You heard the grunts of serval men

putting all their strength to open the wooden gates.

With your sisters and father unstriding their horses and you just jumping down it like a hawk.

Looking around, you found yourself astounded by the difference in architecture. The unfamiliar ambience even the smell was foreign to you.

"Holly cunt, how odd" you exclaimed.

Before you could babble more, you were greeted with an unfamiliar life full of positive vibes.

"Oberyon! What an absolute surprise when I heard you sent a letter by ship to inform me you wanted to visit me. It's been such a long time dear friend! And you brought all 4 of your daughters. How wonderful!"  Said Samwell Blackwood.

"Yes, my youngest daughter was very enamored with tales of your land. So I caved in when she kept pleading me to take her here. She seemed to really like the stories she heard of your riverlands."

Sister 1: saying lowly " and maybe your nut job son that might kill squirrels and eat them raw"

Sister 2: "Y/N has been very excited to meet your son Benijcot actually. Where around your house might he be?"

Sister 3: "well I believe if you don't mind my lord since it's such a big voyage if we could have some nurishments?"

You look bewildered at the stabbing words your sisters vomited out. How could they want her to meet a secret mad boy that turns into a maniac in the slight presents of even the sharpest objects around. And the squirrel comment might be true the fuck!

"At least he could cook it first" you said looking mortified to the side. "I mean how fast can he be to catch a squirrel. What if he ate his fellow squirrel homies too?" You were over thinking the squirrel comment.

So when Sister 3 spoke you felt relieved. She wasn't doing it for you tho. The bitch was just hungry and greedy. But for the first few times in years she was glad her sister was a selfish assface.

"I apologize for my daughters comments. I raised them like men mostly so I believe it's on me they say the things they do."

Oberyn stated.

"No problem, raising 4 daughters must of given you many headaches and torture. I must say raising boys is much easier. I imagine when they bleed every moon of the month, they turn into the most ravenous of wolves." Stated Lord Blackwood.

"But please come into my dining hall. Your daughter is correct; you must be tired and Ship lagged." Said Lord Blackwood.

As all 5 of you were guided to the table you took in the walls that surrounded you. Your head filled with the rabid squirrel catcher Benjicot.

But, through out your meal with Lord Blackwood; you seemed to see others besides your family.  But no one resembling a young boy. Mostly beared bloated men.  You felt a bit disappointed. So much talk over a no show. Did he think he was better than his guests?

Sister 2: " Lord Black, I'm sorry for the interruption. But where might your son be? We have not seen him all night."

Sister 3: "May your son be handsome? We find our youngest sister Y/N needs a buddy to study her combat skills with. She herself is interested in fighting like a wilding."

You swear these whores don't give it a rest. But even then it made you seem even more interested.

"OH my boy benji, he is not feeling so well. He usually goes out to the moonlit meadows of our land to train. I always tell him to be aware of wondering Brackens as well. Those craven cunts have been starting shit with us for centuries" Says Lord Blackwood.

After more talk of the hatred between the Blackwoods and Bracken beef. You finally get to retire to your own chamber. Seemly all 3 of your sisters and father go and take their leave as well to rest.

"Fuck it! I'm going to find him." You tell yourself after 10 mins.

Lord Blackwood said in the moonlit meadows. But there were so many. You made your way through unknown corridors until you reached the outside. Walking just a few more paces you heard grunting and a sword gritting against metal.

As you approached slowly, your boots crunched on some stones. Immediately, you were met with a sword to your throat.

[thistledown-au-warriors]

fire and ice - chapter 21

< Chapter 20 || Index || Chapter 22 >

Blue Fur's breathing stopped just before dawn. Fire Heart had almost dozed off when he realized the cave was silent. There was no noise from the camp outside either, just a deathly hush, as if the whole Clan were holding its breath.

The gray molly was completely still. Fire Heart knew she was with StarClan, preparing for her remaining life. He had watched her lose a life before. He felt his fur prickle at the eerie peace that seemed to enfold her body, but there was nothing he could do, so he waited.

Suddenly Blue Fur gasped. “Fire Heart, is that you?” she meowed in a croaky voice.

“Yes, Blue Fur.” Fire Heart murmured. “I’m here.”

“I have lost another life.” Blue Fur’s voice was weak, but the relief made Fire Heart want to reach forward and lick her between the ears, as Stone Pelt had done. “When I lose this one, I will not be able to return.”

Fire Heart swallowed hard. “How do you feel? Shall I fetch Violet Fang?”

Blue Fur shook her head slowly. “The fever is gone. I am well enough. I just need to rest.”

“Very well.” meowed Fire Heart. Light was beginning to filter through the lichen, and his head swam from his wakeful night.

“You must be tired,” meowed Blue Fur. “Go and get some sleep.”

“Yes.” Fire Heart heaved himself up. His legs felt stiff from lying down so long. “Is there anything you need?”

She hesitated. “Call my kits here, please. I want to see them.” answered Blue Fur. “And thank you, for sitting with me.”

Fire Heart tried to purr but it caught in his throat. There would be time for more words later. He dipped his head and pushed his way out through the lichen.

Outside a harsh brightness made him blink. It had snowed in the night. Fire Heart stared in amazement. He had never seen snow before. Even with all he'd heard, the white ice still made his eyes widen in surprise. He nodded to Dark Pine, who had replaced Pale Tail guarding Blue Fur's den, and stepped into the strange powder. It felt wet and cold, crunching loudly under his paws. 

The three littermates were already awake, sitting in a scoop in the snow beneath the Highrock, sharing warmth. They looked up at Fire Heart when he approached them, and dashed to Blue Fur's side as soon as he told them she wanted to see them.

Tiger's Claw was standing in the clearing. It was still snowing and the flakes settled on the tabby’s thick fur without melting. Fire Heart could hear him giving orders for the nursery wall to be padded with leaves to keep out the cold. “—Then I want a hole to be scraped out where we can store prey.” the ThunderClan deputy instructed. “Use snow to line it, and cover it with more snow once it has been filled. We may as well make use of the snow while it’s here.”

Warriors raced around Tiger's Claw, following his orders. “Mouse Fur, Pale Tail! Organize some hunting parties. We need as much fresh-kill as we can get before the prey takes to their burrows for good!” Tiger's Claw spotted Fire Heart padding across the clearing. “Fire Heart, wait.” he called. “Oh, I suppose you’ll have to rest. I can’t imagine you’ll be of any use on a hunting party this morning.”

Fire Heart stared at the dark warrior, hostility rising like bile in his throat. “I’m going to see how Blazing Cinder and Sand Storm are first.” he growled.

Tiger's Claw held his gaze for a moment. “How’s Blue Fur?”

Mistrust ruffled Fire Heart’s fur like a cold breeze. He’d heard Blue Fur lie to Tiger's Claw once before about how many lives she had left. She might not have believed him and Raven Shadow, but clearly Tiger's Claw wasn't worthy of this information. “I’m not a healer, as you know.” he answered. “I can’t say.”

Tiger's Claw snorted impatiently, then turned away and went back to giving orders. Fire Heart  walked over to the healers' den, relieved to escape the frenetic bustle of the camp. “Violet Fang?” he called.

“Hush!” Violet Fang sprang from Blazing Cinder's bracken nest. “She’s sleeping at last. She’s had a hard night. I couldn’t give her poppy seeds to ease the pain until she’d recovered from the shock.”

“But she’s going to live?” 

“I can’t know for sure for a few days. She’s hurt inside, and one of her hind legs is badly broken.”

Sand Storm lifted her head from her nest, still looking feverish. She staggered out of the nest, ignoring Violet Fang's warning hiss. "Her leg will mend, won't it? We'll be training again by newleaf?" The molly meowed hoarsely, desperation in her eyes.

Violet Fang sighed. "She needs to make it first. And so do you, Sand Storm." Violet Fang pressed her pelt against the younger molly's and guided her back to her nest. The healer murmured some words to her until Sand Storm was settled, shivering slightly.

"How's her cold?" Fire Heart asked once Violet Fang approached.

"It's whitecough now." The healer meowed with a long sigh. "Mouse Fur recovered from her own cold, but all that running and shock took out Sand Storm's health. She's strong, I believe she'll be fine, but grief and guilt drain a cat's health like cold rock drains a cat's warmth."

Fire Heart nodded weakly. His eyes wandered over to Blazing Cinder. "... Did Frost Shine see her?"

“Yes, she was here till dawn. She’s with her other kits now, reassuring them. I’ll ask one of the elders or Stone Pelt to sit with Blazing Cinder. She needs to be kept warm.”

“I can do that.” Fire Heart padded over to the nest where Blazing Cinder was sleeping and looked inside. She squirmed, and her herb-covered sides heaved, as though she were fighting a battle as she slept.

Violet Fang gently nudged Fire Heart with her nose. “You need to get some sleep.” she rasped. “Leave Blazing Cinder to me.”

Fire Heart stayed where he was. “Blue Fur lost another life.” he burst out. Violet Fang blinked for a moment, then lifted her head to StarClan. She didn’t utter a word, but Fire Heart could see the anguish in her orange eyes. “You know, don’t you?” he murmured.

The healer lowered her chin and gazed into his eyes. “That this is Thunder Blue Fur's final life? Yes, I know. A healer can tell these things.” she whispered, placing a paw in her chest.

“Will the rest of the Clan be able to tell as well?” Fire Heart asked, thinking of Tiger's Claw.

Violet Fang narrowed her eyes. “No. She will be no weaker in this life than she was in any of her others.”

Fire Heart blinked gratefully at her.

“Now.” The old molly ordered. “Do you want some poppy seeds to help you sleep?”

Fire Heart shook his head. Part of him longed for the deep, easy sleep they would bring. But if Tiger's Claw was right and ShadowClan really was about to attack ThunderClan’s borders, he did not want to dull his senses. He might be needed to defend the camp.

  Gray Stripe was back in the warriors’ den. Fire Heart padded silently to his nest, circled once, and settled down to wash.

Gray Stripe looked up. “You’re back, then.” He sounded edgy, as if he wanted to say more.

Fire Heart stopped licking his forepaw and stared at Gray Stripe.

“You tried to warn Silver Stream off.” Gray Stripe hissed furiously. Willow Branch, who was dozing on the other side of the den, opened one eye, then closed it again.

Gray Stripe lowered his voice. “Stay out of it, will you?” he spat. “I’m going to keep on seeing her, whatever you do or say.”

Fire Heart snorted and flashed a resentful glance at his friend. His talk with Silver Stream seemed so long ago, he’d almost forgotten it. With how his last two days had gone, whatever bad choices Gray Stripe made with his life didn't concern him. I'm not his parent or his mentor. He laid his head angrily on his muddy forepaws and closed his eyes.

Whitecough was spreading, a war was on the horizon, Blazing Cinder was battling against her injuries, and Blue Fur was on her last life. As far as Fire Heart was concerned, Gray Stripe could do what he liked.

  Gray Stripe had already left his nest when Fire Heart awoke next. He could tell it was sunhigh by the light that glowed through the branches. He rose, his body still weary with anxiety and grief, and pushed his head out of the den. Snow must have been falling all morning, for it lay thick on the ground and had drifted against the den. Fire Heart found himself gazing out over a white wall that was as high as his shoulder.

The usual bustle of the camp seemed muted. Fire Heart could see Willow Branch and Dapple Pelt whispering on the far side of the clearing. Mouse Fur was picking her way laboriously toward the store of fresh-kill, a rabbit dangling from her jaws. She stopped and sneezed, then carried on.

Fire Heart lifted one paw and rested it on top of the snow. It felt hard at first, but when he pressed down, the thin covering of ice cracked and he gasped as his leg plunged into the drift. Fire Heart snorted as he found himself up to his muzzle in snow. Shaking his head and lifting his chin, he leaped forward, only to sink into more deep snow. He struggled on, alarm rising in his chest. He felt as if he were drowning in snow! Then, all of a sudden, there was solid ground under his paws. He had reached the edge of the clearing. The snow here was only a mouse-length deep, and Fire Heart sat down with a soft crunch, relieved.

He tensed when he saw Gray Stripe plowing through the snow toward him. The gray warrior seemed unbothered by it, protected from its damp chill by his thick pelt. His face was shadowed with sorrow. “Have you heard about Blue Fur?” he asked as he neared. “She lost a life to greencough.”

Fire Heart flicked his ears impatiently. He could have told his friend that. “I know.” he snapped. “I was with her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” mewed Gray Stripe, shocked.

“You weren’t exactly in a friendly mood this morning, if you don't recall. Anyway, if you weren’t always off breaking the warrior code, you might know what was going on in your own Clan.” he snarled.

Gray Stripe’s ears twitched uncomfortably. "I've heard about Blazing Cinder. I saw her there when I went to speak with Violet Fang."

Fire Heart's ears went up. “How is she?”

“She looked bad, but Violet Fang said she’s pulling through.” replied Gray Stripe.

Fire Heart stared anxiously across the clearing and stood up. He wanted to see the apprentice for himself, and check on the cats with whitecough - especially Sand Storm.

Gray Stripe meowed. “She’s asleep now. Frost Shine's with her, and Violet Fang doesn’t want anyone else disturbing her.”

Not turning his head, Fire Heart nodded slowly. You're not a healer, you'd only get in the way , he reminded himself. But he wanted to help. What use was hunting and fighting right now? He couldn't fight off his clanmates suffering with illness and injury. And whatever happened with ShadowClan and RiverClan, only more suffering would come from it. Instinctively, Fire Heart turned to Gray Stripe, seeking reassurance. But Gray Stripe was trudging across the snowy clearing toward the nursery. Off to see Silver Stream , Fire Heart guessed resentfully, sheathing and unsheathing his claws as he watched his friend disappear from sight.

He noticed Golden Flower only when she stopped right in front of him. “Is Tiger's Claw inside?” she asked, pointing with her nose to the warriors’ den.

Fire Heart shook his head.

Golden Flower mewed. “There’s greencough in the nursery. Two of Brindle Face's kits are sick.”

“Greencough!” Fire Heart gasped, shaken from his anger. “Will they survive?” 

“They might not. But leaf-bare always brings greencough.” She pointed out gently.

“Surely there’s something we can do!” Fire Heart protested. Mossy Patch had just lost one of her mother's lives to greencough, now it could be about to take more of her kits from her?

“Violet Fang and Stone Pelt will do what they can.” answered Golden Flower. “But in the end, it’s up to StarClan.”

A new flash of fury flared in Fire Heart’s belly as Golden Flower turned away and padded back to the nursery. How could the Clan tolerate these tragedies? Maybe Stone Pelt was the only cat in the Clan with sense. He felt overwhelmed by the need to leave the camp, to escape the gloomy air that the rest of the Clan seemed content to breathe.

He jumped up and raced blindly across the snowy clearing, through the gorse tunnel and out into the forest. He finally stopped beneath Tallpines, his sides heaving with the effort of running through the snow. There was stillness here that calmed him. Even the birds had stopped singing. Fire Heart felt as if he were the only creature in the world.

He didn’t know where he was going — he just padded on, letting the woods soothe him. As he walked, his mind cleared. Fire Heart could do nothing for Blazing Cinder that Violet Fang wouldn't, and Gray Stripe was out of reach, but he might be able to help fight the greencough. He would fetch some more catmint.

Fire Heart turned his steps toward his old kittypet home, weaving through the brambles in the oak woods that backed onto Twolegplace. He leaped to the top of the fence at the end of his old home, nudging a ridge of snow into the garden below. It fell with a soft clump. Fire Heart peered down into the garden. He could see tracks, smaller than a cat’s. A squirrel had been out hunting for its store of nuts.

It didn’t take Fire Heart long to pluck a generous mouthful of leaves from the catmint bush. He wanted to take as much as he could. Its soft leaves might not survive this weather, this could be his last chance to gather it.

With his mouth crammed, Fire Heart stared toward the swinging flap he had used as a kit. He wondered if his Twoleg housefolk still lived there. They’d been kind to him. He had spent his first leaf-bare cosseted in their nest, warm and safe from the cruelties of Thunderpaths and greencough.

The scent of this catmint must be going to my head, he thought sharply. He bounded up the garden and onto the fence with a single leap. He was unnerved by how much the thought of his Twoleg home had stirred him. Did he really want the safety and predictability of a kittypet’s life? Of course not! Fire Heart shook the thought away. But the idea of returning to camp didn’t appeal to him yet.

Suddenly he thought of Princess.

Fire Heart raced along the edge of the woods to the part of Twolegplace where his sister’s garden lay. When her fence was in sight, he dug down through the snow and buried the catmint beneath a layer of dead leaves to protect it from the cold. He was still panting from his run when he leaped onto the fence and called out to Princess. Then he scrambled back down into the woods to wait for her.

The snow made his paws ache with cold as he paced restlessly under an oak tree. Perhaps she is kitting , he told himself, or shut inside . He had just persuaded himself he wasn’t going to see her today when he heard her familiar mew. He looked up to see her standing on top of her fence. Fire Heart felt a shiver of anticipation. Her belly was no longer swollen, and the scent of milk clung to her.

He breathed in her scent as she approached and felt it warm him. “You’ve kitted!” he meowed.

Princess gently touched his nose with hers. “Yes.” she mewed softly.

“Did it go okay? Are the kits all right? Are you alright?”

Princess purred. “It was a bit scary, but fine. My housefolk and the vet were there for me. I don't even remember much, thankfully. I have four healthy kits now.” she meowed, her eyes glowing with pleasure. Fire Heart licked her head and she mewed. “I didn’t expect to see you out in this weather.”

“I came to find some catmint.” Fire Heart told her. “There’s greencough in the camp, and it's the only herb that can fight it. It can be a deathly illness.”

Princess’ eyes clouded with worry. “Are many of your Clan ill?”

“Three so far.” Fire Heart hesitated for a moment, then meowed sadly. “Our leader lost another life last night.”

“Another life?” echoed Princess. “What do you mean? I thought it was only an old queen's tale that cats have nine lives.”

“Blue Fur was granted nine lives by StarClan because she's the leader of our Clan.” Fire Heart explained.

Princess looked at him in awe. “Then it’s true!”

“Only for Clan leaders. The rest of us have only one life, like you, and like Blazing Cinder...” Fire Heart’s voice trailed away.

“Blazing Cinder?” Princess must have detected the sadness in his voice.

Fire Heart gazed into her eyes, and the thoughts that had been troubling him began to tumble out. “Sand Storm's apprentice.” he meowed. “She had just begun training, barely out of the nursery. She was hit on the Thunderpath last night.” His voice cracked as he remembered finding her broken, bleeding body. “She’s badly hurt. She might still die.”

Princess moved closer and nuzzled him. 

“The accident shouldn’t have happened.” Fire Heart growled. “I was supposed to meet Tiger's Claw about signs of an invasion. He’d asked for Blue Fur, but Blue Fur was ill, so I offered to go instead. I had to fetch catmint first, and Blazing Cinder went in my place.” Princess looked alarmed and Fire Heart added quickly. “Sand Storm told her to stay, but she slipped away while I was fetching catmint. She had to go out to find her and got sick. If I had been faster none of it would have happened.”

“It's not your fault.” Princess tried to soothe him, but Fire Heart hardly heard her.

“I don’t know why Tiger's Claw wanted Blue Fur to meet him in such a dangerous place!” he spat. “He said there was evidence that ShadowClan had invaded our territory, but when I arrived there was no scent of them at all!”

“Was it a trap?” Princess suggested.

Fire Heart looked into his sister’s questioning eyes and suddenly began to wonder. “Why would Tiger's Claw want to hurt Blazing Cinder?”

“It was your leader he asked for.” Princess pointed out.

Fire Heart’s fur bristled. Could his sister be right? Tiger's Claw had summoned Blue Fur to the narrowest part of the Thunderpath verge. Fire Heart's throat tightened. “I d-don’t know.” he stammered. “Everything’s so confusing at the moment. Even Gray Stripe’s hardly speaking to me.”

“Why?”

Fire Heart sighed. “It's complicated...” Princess nestled next to him in the snow, pressing her soft fur against his. He realized how tired he was from keeping everything in - the pull towards healing he'd been repressing, Red Tail's mysterious death that Gray Stripe didn't want to involve himself in… "He fell for a warrior from another Clan, Silver Stream. She's the RiverClan leader's daughter. It's against the warrior code to be with a cat from another Clan like this. We could meet in battle soon."

"That sounds rough. It's his choice though, isn't it?" 

He huffed. "Worst case scenario, she's using him to spy on ThunderClan. Best case scenario, they still might have to battle each other someday. It weakens the Clan." Fire Heart sighed. "Ever since he started sneaking out to meet her, he's been neglecting his duties and his health. I tried telling him and Silver Stream to stop meeting, but now Gray Stripe is just mad at me."

"Fire Heart…" Princess meowed softly. "I understand it hurts you, but… you can't make everything your responsibility."

"But there has to be something I can do!" Fire Heart cried out. "There must be a reason why- if I'm there then-" he stopped himself, panting. Princess pressed herself further against him, and he took deep breaths. "I'm sorry… you just kitted, and I couldn't even help you with that… I shouldn't burden you with all of this."

"You're not the vet, Fire Heart." She purred. "And it sounds like you have been needing to let all this out for a long time."

"I just feel so isolated lately…" he murmured. He couldn't imagine burdening Misty Step or Violet Fang with his concerns about Gray Stripe since the sickness began. "And no Clan cat can understand what it's like, being different."

“Different?” Princess echoed, looking puzzled.

“Being born a kittypet, when the other cats are all Clanborn.”

“You seem like a Clanborn cat to me.” mewed Princess. Fire Heart blinked gratefully at her. She went on. “But if you’re not happy in the Clan, you can always come home with me. My housefolk would look after you, I’m sure.”

Fire Heart pictured himself living his old kittypet life, warm, cozy, and safe. But he couldn’t forget how he’d watched the woods from his Twoleg garden and dreamed of being out in the forest. A breeze stirred his thick fur and carried the scents of the wilderness to his nose. Fire Heart shook his head firmly. “Thank you, Princess.” he meowed. “But I belong with my Clan now. I could never be happy in a Twoleg nest. I would miss the air of the forest, seeing the Starpath every night, sharing prey with my Clan and protecting my clanmates.”

His sister’s eyes gleamed. “I knew you'd say that. It sounds like a good life.” she purred. She looked down shyly at her paws. “Sometimes even I stare into the forest and wonder what it feels like to live out there, the way you do.”

Fire Heart purred and stood up. “Then you understand?”

Princess nodded. “Are you going back now?”

“Yes. I must take the catmint to Violet Fang while it’s fresh.”

Princess stretched her head forward to press her muzzle into his side. “Perhaps my kits will be strong enough to meet you next time you come.” she mewed.

Excitement tingled in Fire Heart’s belly. “I hope so!” he meowed.

As he turned to leave, Princess called. “Take care of yourself, brother. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t.” promised Fire Heart.

[vulpinesaint]

8, 15, and 20 for the music ask game

let's gooooo

8: a song about drugs or alcohol

immediately heroin by badflower comes to mind. however that song is not actually about drugs. it's a good one though! literally my bones are caving in... anyway me when every song that mentions drugs or alcohol is actually about being in love. ummm i will also offer NEVER FUCKIN KNOW by poutyface as a song about the aftereffects of drugs or alcohol and hopefully together they can constitute a song that is actually about drugs or alcohol 👍

15: a song that is a cover by another artist

oh i GOTTA plug mothica's cover of can you feel my heart here. fucking fantastic. cover of all time. songs that people listen to and go "yeah. this tracks that you (bracken) would listen to this". formative. sometimes you need some bring me the horizon but like. girlie electropop. y'know?

20: a song that has many meanings to you

this prompt is so silly what is this supposed to mean. i don't know if there's a song that has multiple meanings to me but what i WILL do is make pop songs about my experience. yuck by charlixcx is actually about being aro. IDFWFEELINGS by upsahl is actually about the way that i decide that i'm done having feelings about someone (in an aromantic way). and ESPECIALLY into my body by upsahl is about being trans. god i love that song so much

[ronanbrackens]

who: @jaehaerysiitargaryen when and where: flashback thread set in kings landing, where lord ronan bracken of stone hedge approaches the dragon king. set following the conversation between garrick cargll and ronan bracken.

men needed to use what they had to progress in the world; there were a lucky few whose power and progress came in the form of wealth, whether it lined the walls of caves or whether it lined trade between each river - and there were those others who needed to utilise something else to make themselves a name that was known. house bracken, in all of it's ancient glory of kingship, were not masters of trade of their land of rivers: they were some of those who needed to work for their position.

it had not been lost to ronan bracken that the only reason he was hand was because the lord blackwood had made a slip and the river king had no choice but to once again tip the scales. a position he took, but saw right through all the same.

before the title had been bestowed upon king, ronan bracken had used a different technique: that which came with utilising the side of the war he and his men had stood upon, the side he saw his bastard brother slain for - because whilst the blacks ruled the riverlands, the greens were on the path of ruling the world. the lions to their west and the green dragon to the east, ronan bracken was a name known across other households in the realm aside from the land of rivers: if not for the constant favours he had secured for any of the others when it came to matters of the riverlands. stone hedge was always a stop of rest on their journey.

their connection to jaehaerys targaryen was one he himself would personally endeavour to see non-tarnished, and the news that had filtered back to him of his own personal headache at home insulting him whilst stood atop of the chair and going as far as to claim he appeared queer stood in rows of the coronation - well, the servants heard his reaction before they saw him. it were common for the bracken siblings to curse one another and then end up back at the table, but there was no denying the anger in ronan's voice that day.

and now he were stood in the audience chamber of jaehaerys targaryen, still inwardly refraining from inwardly cursing brianna's line, and heard the sound of him approaching. if it were anyone else, ronan would no doubt have a slight grin crossed over his features in this moment; but alas, it was not anyone else. it was his issue to deal with. "yer grace." ronan greeted, bowing his head as jaehaerys came into the room. the men had only been in one another's company some days before all of this had kicked off, and now here they were again.

"forgive my rushed request for an audience - a matter has only recently come to my attention." he cleared his throat slightly; every word was a contrast to his usual brash nature, but one look at his face and one would know he was not happy. "i ask that you accept my apology on behalf of my sister, the lady brianna, for her choice of words and attitude." ronan knew what was said, but gods knew he would not bring it up unless the king himself done. "she is a good woman at heart….merely defensive. overly."

[briannabrackens]

♣️

her face only seemed to crumple more as he noted the way she appeared to be pale; it were as though her face caved in on itself as she let out a low exhale, appearing as though she were ready to combust. perhaps that would be best; for the ground to open up and swallow her into the depths below - at least that way she would not feel her heart pounding each time someone approached or, or said her name; she would not feel like she needed to look behind her shoulder, or like she was being watched.

brianna bracken was not a paranoid person - if anything, she were not observant and careful enough; now it hit her, it hit her like a tidal wave. "if i see her, i'll ask her." gods knew she was not going to actively put herself around any westerlanders; let alone the lefford family who were related to the king. her mind thought of amerie briefly, and she thanked the gods that of all their visits, it was always the lady banefort coming to stone hedge, rather than other way around.

"it's called bein' sick." brianna spoke, her tone characteristically defensive as she quietly wrapped her arms around clover, who remained seated upon her lap. he was always such a good boy, able to tell when she needed a quiet cuddle; and in this moment, it felt like clover was the shield between herself and her brother's ability to see right through her. "i caught a chill and lost my shawl the night of the ball…i had it on when i stepped onto the balcony, but it must've slipped off durin' the dancing." brianna gave a false little sniffle, bringing her hand to rub the back of her nose. what a performance.

"i seen a maester, he just be tellin' me to drink somethin' warm and be mindful of my coughing." brianna was not even coughing, why did she add that detail? now she would need to ensure she was coughing. "i've also…uh…" she trailed off slightly. no, she would speak to him about that after. the next conversation however seemed like a glimmer, an open window; how rare it was that ronan would sit and have a conversation with her about the implications of their mother's sickness.

they had always buried themselves in the present, taking it day by day; how she always had questions, but felt as though she did not wish to bring misfortune upon them by speaking it into existence.

"exactly. mamai needs me, so that's the end of the conversation. i don't wanna be involved. there's two of us; you can secure us a deal by getting a good marriage. i'll mind my business whilst you and yer wife play happy families, she won't even need to take care of mummy because i'll be there to do it." her voice sounded insistent, stubborn; she would make camp, live, and die on this hill. whilst she knew her brother simply wanted her to be able to live a life of her own, brianna was content with her mother being her life. she wanted to know she had done everything she could, to the very end.

"there be no point in lookin' for me, when you ain't married. it ain't me continuin' the line. focus on yerself, then you can nag my ear off."

ᕯ

"what's wrong wit yer face?" ronan asked, his voice blunt in the way discussion between brother and sister always was. "yer lookin' pale."

there was something strange in the air that was between them, as though he could sense the shifting nature and the uneasy waves that were in his direction; as she bent forward onto her knees to scoop her beloved into her arms, floofy wagging tail and all, ronan's dark gaze flickered up from the papers he was overlooking back in the direction of his sister.

"nah, i'll be tellin' leo lefford, and leo lefford alone. gods know it ain't my drama to be wrapped up in, how he deals with his people." ronan spoke, noting the way in which their gaze met; she was sussing out whether he noticed anything, and he pretended as though he did not, once again shuffling through his drawers. acting as though he could not find what exactly he knew he needed. "but it puts us in the position of good standing with a noble family of the west; no doubt one of us should be following in the direction of the king. marrying a westerlander."

and yet still, his features looked up at hers once again when she mentioned the lady lefford; she had spoken to the lady lefford too?

"i reckon calla would have no issue in answerin' you on that one. may ask questions as to why, though." women spoke to one another, such was the reality of their lives - socialising, coming together each time the realms all met. moving around the room as they spoke, which was so utterly casual to them; for now he were actually trying to find the spare seal he always kept. what box had he locked it in?

the mention of their mother had spurred the increased movement by ronan bracken, who truthfully, struggled greatly to speak on such a topic; still deep in the folds of denial, he had not yet come to accept the fact his mother would not be able to pick him out in a room. he did not know how to grieve someone who still lived, breathed and laughed - who could still be seen from the window of his study, though he always looked away when instinct caused her gaze to flicker upward.

and in his pain, in his denial of it all and taking early leadership of the household, he had not noticed brianna's own youth slip through her fingers in taking on the role of being their mother's carer. a slight sigh came from deep within his chest, knowing that it was time brianna began to contemplate about her own future. focusing on the future of their family, rather than drowning in the past - that was his job. making up for what choices had been made.

"...mamai will always need you." ronan spoke, the unease clear in his voice; speaking on such a topic was murky waters for him, something he never delved into - at least, his feelings on the matter. his grief. "and there won't be a time where mamai won't need you. but what of yer life?" he asked, a sense of guilt creeping over him in the pit of his stomach at his words. it were not as though he were trying to separate them, but he knew it would up to him to find a woman willing to care of the entirety of the household. that included his mother - there would be no discussion on that front.

and it was up to brianna to remember she had a life and duties of her own. "yer five and twenty now, and it'll be in riverrun you'll be able to meet suitors. i do not wish to look for ya, but yer'll leave me no choice should you remain secluded at home. most would beg for the opportunity to be involved in such things, bri."

[beansbeware]

Beans’ Bagginshield Recs

Here it is! My first rec list eight years since I first started shipping Bagginshield. When this lockdown started (and ended and started again) I found myself re-reading OG/classics and discovering new ones. Sifting through my AO3 history I realized I have read and already forgotten so much fic over the years. For a while, I though the ship had run its course but as we can see now, Bagginshield lives! Check back for updates as I discover (and remember) more fics. Pay attention to the tags and trigger warnings! 

AU

I Sang In My Chains Like The Sea by orphan_account for lincesque, IronPanda

In which Bilbo is a Jaeger pilot candidate, and Middle Earth stands on the brink of destruction. (Pacific Rim AU) [Wasn’t sure how this one worked but man it did]

At the Turn of the Year by northerntrash

They say that strange things live in the woods, fair folk and things more spirit than man; don't step between the old oaks, parents mutter to their children, or they might find you, and eat you. Thorin never believed that, but now winter is settling into his bones, the shadows are growing longer through the hoar frost, and he is lost among the trees.

And it was there that Thorin met him, that strange, laughing creature, walking barefoot through the bracken.

Canon-ish

Homeward Bound by perkynurples for 61Below

His life slips away from him on an elven boat carrying him overseas, and there is one last journey Bilbo Baggins must take if he truly means to arrive home.

Sansûkh by determamfidd

The battle was over, and Thorin Oakenshield awoke, naked and shivering, in the Halls of his Ancestors.

The novelty of being dead fades quickly, and watching over his companions soon fills him with grief and guilt. Oddly, a faint flicker of hope arises in the form of his youngest kinsman, a Dwarf of Durin's line with bright red hair.

(Follows the story of the War of the Ring).

The Great Shire Conspiracy by Avelera for Emsiecat

Ten years later, Bilbo can't even go to the Green Dragon without a dwarven tourist buying him a beer and sobbing over Bilbo's great tragic love affair with Thorin Oakenshield. Which would all be quite touching and heartbreaking, if not for one little thing...

Dark (generally not a fan but this one made the cut)

Pain-Bearer by lilithiumwords (unfinished)

In an alternate reality, Erebor was never taken by Smaug, and the War of Dwarves and Orcs never happened. The Orcs invaded the Shire, slaughtering hundreds and taking countless more as slaves. Bilbo is slave to Azog, the Dwarf King's mortal enemy... until the Dwarf King rescues him.

Dwarves! in the Shire

Selling to Hobbits by HildyJ 

Exiled from his kingdom and living on the mercy of others, Thorin is determined to make his own way in the world for him and his family. And the annual Summer Fair in Hobbiton sounds like the best place to sell enough of his crafted goods to do just that.

Oak and Mistletoe by HildyJ (series)

After a life dominated by a strange form of sickness, Thorin is sent to the Shire to seek a cure only Bilbo Baggins can offer.

Erebor - Nope, Never Fell 

A Most Sensible Idea by HildyJ

Bilbo Baggins isn't sure about this. Not one bit.

Frodo is definitely too young to enter into an arranged marriage with a dwarven king called Thorin Oakenshield. It's a good thing that Bilbo is there to chaperone him through their courtship.

After all, there's no chance that a fussy hobbit bachelor would ever catch the eye of a king.

Signs and Meanings by HildyJ

It shouldn't matter to Thorin that the visiting hobbit cook doesn't speak his language. But it does.

Per Aspera by northerntrash

Deep in the dungeons of the Kingdom of Erebor, in an old, unused storeroom, lived a Hobbit.

In which Bilbo Baggins, a strangely successful thief, makes a mistake, and meets a Prince.

Erebor - Rebuilding

Mother-Tongue by northerntrash for HildyJ

Forget-me-not: a small flower, with four petals, which are normally found in shades of blue with a pink or white centre. These are traditional flowers of intent in the Shire, used to express true love, and remembrance.

In which Bilbo plans to leave Erebor, and Thorin tries to understand why.

Previous Engagements by Lunarflare14

After the Battle of Five Armies Thorin and Company have a new task: rebuilding their reclaimed home. Suddenly Bilbo finds himself up to his ears in responsibility and he surprises himself with how well he can navigate negotiations with elf dignitaries, farmers in Dale, and a dwarf king who has patience for neither.

But as Spring approaches a caravan from the Blue mountains brings something everyone had nearly forgotten: the dwarf woman Thorin promised his hand to many years ago.

Which is fine. It's all fine. It wasn't like Bilbo was falling in love with the king or anything.

That would be tragic.

And I'm Your Lionheart by Lee_Whimsy

Bilbo lingers in Erebor while Thorin recovers from his wounds, and soon finds himself caught up in politics, romance, and the occasional kidnapping. Ensemble cast. AU. Eventually Thorin/Bilbo.

Fix-Its (Gawd we need them)

An Expected Journey by MarieJacquelyn

For years Bilbo has written about his adventures and told stories about his dealings with dwarves and dragons. To most it seemed like fanciful nonsense but to Bilbo it was all very real. A weight followed him home from his travels, one called regret. Now in his final moments Bilbo has a choice to make – go quietly into death’s embrace or go back again and face all the fear and pain for the chance to make things right?

Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

though the stars walk backward by baggvinshield, killaidanturner

Bilbo wakes, always in Erebor, with dark shadows to one side and the first light of a terrible dawn to the other.

An Expected Journey by MarieJacquelyn

For years Bilbo has written about his adventures and told stories about his dealings with dwarves and dragons. To most it seemed like fanciful nonsense but to Bilbo it was all very real. A weight followed him home from his travels, one called regret. Now in his final moments Bilbo has a choice to make – go quietly into death’s embrace or go back again and face all the fear and pain for the chance to make things right?

Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

Over Your Shoulder by northerntrash

The battle is over, and the lost have been counted. There is too much death, too much blood, and in the middle of it sits one small Hobbit, left quite alone but for a body on the ground and the memory of what might have been. But he is a tenacious creature, and if there is one thing that he has learnt, it is not to give up hope.

In which Bilbo Baggins goes on one last journey, and doesn't come back alone.

Historical Setting

The Ghost And Mr Baggins by perkynurples

They say that everything can be cured by saltwater - sweat, tears or the sea. Bilbo Baggins chooses the last option, taking his recently orphaned nephew and moving to the charming Oak Cottage, overlooking England’s grislier shores. The house charms him instantly, and though he knows nothing at all about the sea, or about making ends meet on his own so far from everything he’s known his whole life for that matter, he’s quite determined to stay, and see his nephew get better, odd sounds in the night be damned. He’s living in a modern world, after all, and the nonsense he’s been hearing about the house being haunted by its former owner, the mysterious Captain Durin, is just silly superstition… isn’t it?

Hobbit! Thorin

I've Grown a Hedge Around My Heart by pibroch (littleblackdog)

Thorin Brandybuck, just recently come of age, still lives in his family’s smial in Buckland, with his parents and two younger siblings. Thorin is an odd duck amongst his relations and neighbours-- unsociable, grumpy, shy, and awkward. And beyond that, he looks rather strange even for a Bucklander, strongly favouring the thick, dark haired build of his Stoorish blood.

It defies all sense and reason why Bilbo Baggins, an exemplar of all the respectable traits Thorin lacked, would ever desire a friendship with him.

Bilbo, as Thorin discovers, is not always as sensible as he appears.

Marriage (or something like it)

An Unexpected Proposal by Eareniel

As Bilbo sat smoking in his empty hobbit hole, he couldn’t help but wonder – when did his life become so boring? Or better yet – when did his old life stop being enough?

He suspected the answer to that question lay somewhere around the time when he had refused Thorin Oakenshield’s offer of marriage.

Something Blue by Lapin

Thorin marries Bilbo after the Battle of Five Armies, a marriage of convenience, not love. Slowly, they must come to make the best of it, Bilbo resolves. After all, he's a Hobbit. They make the best of things.

Magical/Super Powers

On Adventures and Other Forms of Conduct Unbecoming of a Wizard by manic_intent for beingevil

For as long as even the old Gaffer could remember there had been a wizard living in the hill at Bag End, overlooking the Shire. As wizards went, this one wasn't the wandering sort, always out to lure gentle folk out onto nasty adventures, or even the powerful kind, the sort that lived in high towers, reaching out into the ways of the world.

Modern Setting

Old Stone, New Fires by northerntrash

Bilbo was not sure what he had expected when he had agreed to supervise the restoration of Erebor House, on the lonely tidal island in the North sea, but it was not this. The winters up here are cold and harsh, and there is a strange feeling on the air, thick with the brine of the sea and secrets to which he is not privy; there is some part of the long and troubled history of the place that has not been spoken of, a shadow between the broken family gravestones and the caves beneath the cliffs, dark and dangerous.

Perhaps it is all in Bilbo’s mind, but as the nights grow longer, he starts to doubt it, and as Thorin sinks ever deeper into black and incalculable moods, he will have to find what has been lost, before it takes them all.

For This by northerntrash

Thorin Durin had lived in his new flat for approximately eighty four minutes when things started to go terribly, terribly wrong. The wrongness came in the form of a package, delivered to his door, wrapped in brown paper and string, with a small tag wishing him a very sincere welcome to the building.

Nothing Gold Can Stay by perkynurples

Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples

Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…

If There Were Water by stickman

Bilbo Baggins might be in over his head. He’s purchased an old stone house atop a hill overlooking a city he doesn’t know, and plans to live quietly, largely ignoring the rest of the world. But it’s early April, the rainy season, and the roof leaks, and there's something strange about Bywater House that he can't quite figure out.

Thorin Oakenshield is in his fourth month of trying to reconcile his own grief with his failures at anything remotely resembling a competent single parent, living out of a shoebox flat with Fíli (seven, sullen, and stubborn as hell) and Kíli (five, resilient but cracking), working crap jobs and hating everything including himself.

Under the cover of rainy afternoons and sleepless nights, roof repairs and building restoration, Bilbo and Thorin try to figure out how one navigates isolation, and how one breaks out of it. Every step they manage to take forward finds them dragged back again; every question asked has too many answers, or too few. This is a story about living in a world where everyone is on their own, always, and how things go on.

How the West Was Won and Where It Got Us by stickman

Bilbo is a harried 1st year British literature Ph.D. (early 20th century fiction) who happens to have an interest in spatial narrative structures, a lack of time-management skills, and a tiny apartment with a lot of books and very little furniture. He’s stressed, always, and doesn't quite know where he belongs. He tells himself that really, this is, in fact, what he wants to be doing. But sometimes, as much as he loves books, he gets an urge to do something with his hands.

Thorin is a disgruntled M.Arch. 1 in his last year who can’t be arsed to shave and frightens his students, and, frankly, his profs, but his work is top-notch so no one can really say much. They can, however, bully him into running a hands-on design workshop on Saturday mornings, which is complete crap, because he’s used to drinking his Friday nights into oblivion so showing up at Milstein at 7:45 the next morning and trying to teach in a room of wall-to-wall windows as the sun rises is not at the top of his list. Besides, no one ever shows up.

Except one morning, someone does.

The Boy You Met (At The Coin Laundry) by Lee_Whimsy

Bilbo accidentally spends a summer in Ireland. One rainy day, Thorin appears in the hotel laundry room, naked and dripping wet and about to propose. (But not, unfortunately, to Bilbo.)

Gandalf, Thranduil, and a handful of Spanish footballers all guest-star.

Hooked On You by Chamelaucium

Thorin should have learnt not to trust his brother and sister by now.

Come with us on holiday, they’d said. It’ll be fun, they’d said. A nice break from work.

Yeah right. All this holiday had brought him was being knocked around the head, acute hay-fever, and the biggest, most ridiculous crush ever on the cute, golden-haired fishing instructor.

One-Sided Conversations by northerntrash

"Thank you for listening," Thorin said, getting to his feet. "I hope to be able to return the favour, one day."

The man on the bed didn't respond, but since he'd been in a coma for longer than Thorin had known him, that wasn't entirely surprising.

“One”/Soulmates

you lick your lips (you taste like years of being alone) by perkynurples for stopchasingflowers

Thorin Oakenshield was born without the longing, and has spent his whole life merely observing others as they pursued a feeling unknown to him until they finally found their One. He has made his peace with the prospect of being alone, and has been faring well enough, but little does he know the fates have a different story in store for him.

Things We Grow Together by serenbach

Dwarves are born with a bone-deep knowledge of their One, but Thorin stops feeling the pull of his after the dragon attacks Erebor. Needless to say, he is surprised, and not initially pleased, to find his One living behind a round green door decades later.

Hobbits find a seed that represents their innermost self and can offer it to someone else to plant. This creates a bond as strong as deep roots in the earth between them. It is just like Bilbo, after years of thinking that no one would want his, to offer his soul-seed to a dwarf that does not understand gardening metaphors.

But just because they have found each other does not make the quest to reclaim Erebor any easier, and in the end a sacrifice is still made.

Thorin has to trust in the strength of the bond between himself and his One, because otherwise he will never believe that the sacrifice was worth it.

Colour-struck by northerntrash

Soul mates are like adventures, Bilbo had often consoled himself. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things that made you late for dinner. It was no great hardship that he had never met his, even if he couldn't tell which of his petunias were blue and which were purple.

Quest-ions

Discovering Mr Baggins by Eareniel

The story of a Hobbit, told through the eyes of the dwarves.

Thorin Oakenshield's Majestic Diary by Fruitsie

Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain and Totally Majestic Badass of Middle Earth, does not have a raging hard-on for Bilbo Baggins.

No, seriously.

Just read his diary.

Call You Home by northerntrash

In which the Company are entirely too nosy about matters that are supposed to be a secret, and Bilbo learns that being concerned about propriety is overrated when you could be making friends instead.

Time Travel (because walking Middle Earth is not enough)

Of an Arcane Binding by Salvia_G

An inexplicable magic ties Bilbo Baggins, hobbit of the Shire, to Thorin, dwarven prince of Erebor

[dragon-fics]

DOS: Hunter to Lover (Male Dragon Shifter X Male Elf/Reader)

Chapter summary: You are an elf who must bring back a dragon’s head to be a hunter for your clan. While on your hunt, your team leaves you alone.

pt. 1, Pt. 2, pt. 3 pt. 4, pt.5

“And remember what hangs in the balance; your path in life!” Shouted the elder elf. His luscious silver locks wavered in the snowy air as he paced in front of us, giving us the speech every new hunting elf heard when they went on their first hunt. “Come back with a dragon’s head, you become one of us; fierce hunters who feed our clan! Come back empty-handed, and you will have to make another life for yourself!”

Every firstborn heard this speech on their 800th year of life, when we come of age to be adult elves. And now it was my turn.

I stood with my team of five other elves, we all wielded a weapon; a bow, an ax, a sword or a dagger, along with hunting knives on our belt. I held a bow, a quiver tightly strapped around my torso. I set my face hard, but I wasn’t ready for this.

The elves beside me absolutely were; they were ready to be hunters for our clan.

The elder faced the group, his speech finished. His silver robes wavered in the breeze. He scanned all of us, his ancient gaze pausing on me. I gulped.

“Go forth! And find yourself a beast to kill!”

The surrounding elves raised their fists. “Ho!” They shouted.

“Ho,” I mumbled with them.

The groups dispersed. I followed mine to the north of our village. We already had scouted to the north, and there we found hints that a dragon lived nearby; shed scales, large animal carcasses, large dung piles, all remanents of a dragon.

Our leader Bracken, an elf three months older and taller than me, ran over our plan quickly; I would release some arrows to distract the beast, three others would charge at it and our leader would drive his sword through the dragon’s chest. Straight forward, but hard to time and even harder to find the dragon. We all nodded, to show that we understood the plan. He gave a quick nod back, and we started our way out of the village.

We trekked for a long time until we found the dragon’s main feeding spot; he littered it with carcasses from recently to bones from years ago. I looked away, disgusted; how could any creature eat another creature? It was barbaric.

“Search for tracks,” our leader ordered. We split up.

I made my way over to the freshest carcass and circled it. Large five-clawed talon marks were pressed in the ground. I followed them out of the clearing to the east. I turned around.

“Bracken!” I called. But they were gone, the four of them had just disappeared. “Bracken, Arya, Nima, Flinn?” I called one by one. Nothing.

I thought for a moment. Perhaps they found tracks and wanted to investigate? I’m sure they’ll be back soon. 

I went over to one of the wider trees around the clearing and leaped up into it, and sat in the branch's crook, leaning against the trunk. I looked at my bow, plucking the string as I waited for my team to come back. After a while, I stopped and looked up through the leaves at the pale blue sky above. I was getting sore from sitting on the branch.

I sighed and listened to my surroundings, so I could try to hear where my teammates were. I closed my eyes and focused on my ears. I pushed aside the close sounds and focused on the smaller ones. I could hear some grasshoppers nearby, two squirrels scurrying up a tree and a mother moon phoenix calling to her fledglings to come back for dinner. But no adolescent elves.

I sat like that for a long time. When I opened my eyes, the sun was setting and my legs were asleep. I stretched, dangled out of the tree, my hands gripping the branch as I hung there.

“What am I going to do?” I whispered. I walked over to the tracks I had found earlier. I had no team, no way to bring back a dragon’s head, and I had no way to get back safely without my teammates.

I looked at the long line of tracks ahead of me and drew in a breath. I’d have to stay silent and hope that the dragon and I didn’t cross paths.

I stayed to the edge of the tracks, walking beside them as I looked around. The forest was getting dark, but my Elven sight allowed me to see in the growing darkness.

My heart raced as I walked, I was so scared about coming across the dragon; I forgot about the tracks and wandered off course.

I stop in my stride as I came out of my thoughts.

Where am I?

I spun around and looked at the ground; no tracks in sight. I whipped my head around again, my breathing quickening.

I’m lost and alone.

I don’t know where the village is from here.

No one knows where I am. I’m going to die here at the talons of a bloodthirsty beast and no one will ever know where I died.

A picture of my parents and siblings flashed before my eyes.

They’ll never know...

Tears spilled from my eyes, and I heard heavy wings flap above me.

Mama and Papa will never know because I’m a coward and a fool

Something landed behind me rather lightly.

“It’s all right, little elfling,” soothed a male voice. “I won’t hurt you.”

I spun around, tears spilling down. In front of me stood a muscular male with broad shoulders and chest. His skin tone was much darker than my own pale complexion and had dark green scales on his jaw and neck. He had scaled dark green wings on his back and dark horns protruding from his dark shoulder length hair. He wore a pair of brown trousers and nothing more.

A dragon? I questioned. They have more than one form?

He came closer, his expression soft. “You’re lost, aren’t you?” He asked, he sounded like he will bundle me up and take care of me forever. I wanted to trust me.

I nodded my head, my lips quivering.

“Oh, little elfling,” he pouted. He came closer and wrapped his arms and wings around me. “Those elves were wrong to abandon you.” I sobbed into his chest. How was I doing this? I’m supposed to kill him, not sob uncontrollably in his hold.

“I know just what you need,” he said. He opened his wings and looked down at me. His bare chest was getting soaked by my tears. “Come with me, little elfling,” he whispered.

I nodded, even though it wasn’t a suggestion.

He put a wing around me and walked me away from where we were. I slowly gathered myself as we walked.

“What’s your name, little elfling?” He asked.

“(Y/N),” I stuttered.

“A pretty name for a pretty elf boy,” he mused. I smiled, blushing. “I’m Ugauc.”

I smiled at him. “Nice to meet you, Ugauc.”

We stopped in front of a curtain of leafy vines.

“Welcome to my home,” he greeted before moving me through the dew dusted leaves. On the other side was a bed made of animal hides, a few loose bones, a tiny stream of water and glowing crystals in the walls, ceiling and stalactites, illuminating the cave. There were no gold or gems, no Elven warriors strewn on the ground. No blood spattered on the walls and floor. Maybe we had everything wrong about them.

Ugauc walked forward, leaving me by the entrance.

“This... This is beautiful,” I gasped, focusing on the glowing ceiling.

Ugauc shrugged. “I suppose so. I guess I wanted to find a simple home, having figured out my mate is an elf.”

I looked at him. “Who?” I stiffed as my nose cleared up.

Ugauc hesitated and looked at me. “You, (Y/N).”

I looked back at him, frozen. All this comforting was just so he could—

—No, there must be more to it. He said figured out, remember.

“How do you know that we...?” I put my forefingers together.

Ugauc looked down, thinking about how to explain this. “When dragons come of an age to find a mate, an invisible string pulls us towards each other, so we may find each other. My string led me to your village. I was confused at first, but when you went on a scouting trip with those ‘teammates’ of yours, I knew it was one of you. So I observed all of you—I liked you the most—but when you spilt up to follow my tracks, it was easier for me to figure out which one of you is my soulmate,” he explained. He looked at me, golden eyes shining.

I looked down. “So, we’re—?” I pointed from me to him.

He nodded.

“And you’re sure it’s not any of the others?”

“(Y/N), what I feel with you is like nothing I have ever felt with anyone else.” He moved closer and cupped my cheek.

I swallowed saliva. “Do—did you scare off the others to figure this out?”

Ugauc stepped back. “By the howling winds, no,” he said, sounding insulted. “No, I didn’t. As soon as you turned your back, they walked off, little elfling. I promise you.”

I sighed, disappointed. I looked back at the vines behind me. No light passed through them. I looked back to Ugauc.

“I will walk you home,” he made his way towards the vines.

“Could—,” I started. He turned around. “Could I stay the night? I’m not ready to go home and everyone will be asleep.”

Ugauc smiled. “Please do, little elfling.”

“I’m not an elfling, Ugauc.” I crossed my arms.

“I know. But you’re my little elfling.”

I smiled, and he smiled back. I was so happy he had found me.

Let me know if you want a part 2! I enjoyed writing this WAY too much.

[sit-back-and-read]

Happy Birthday

Kendra was currently sitting on her bed. It was her birthday, at noon, so in a few hours she would go downstairs and blow out the candles on her birthday cake. She knew that it was supposed to be a surprise, but she had overheard her parents and Seth talking. From the conversation, she knew that her grandparents were coming, along with Warren, Dale, Vanessa, and Bracken. They were most likely already here.

But here she was, in her room, looking through a very particular box of letters. Gavin Rose’s letters.

She had read a certain letter many times. It was the first letter she had received from him. 

Dear Kendra,

I’m very sorry I can’t be there to escort you home.

Crazy news from Dougan, huh? I can hardly believe how upside down everything 

has become! I knew there was something shady about good guys wearing masks

. . . they’ve done away with them now.

I’m off on another mission. Nothing as dangerous as what we went through

together, but another chance for me to prove myself useful. I’ll fill you in later. 

Guess why I like letters? No stuttering!

You’re an amazing person, Kendra. I want you to know how much I have

appreciated getting to know you. Hopefully I’ll get a turn standing guard over 

you and you’re brother in the fall. I hope someday soon we’ll get to know each 

other better.

Your friend and admirer,

Gavin

Kendra quietly wondered if Gavin had meant anything he had written. She remembered looking forward to each letter, rereading the parts about missing her and hoping to see her soon. She had even memorized most of them! Had he had signed that letter “your friend and admirer” with a smirk on his face, knowing that his betrayal would leave her crushed? She hoped not. Kendra didn’t like to admit it, even to herself, but she had fallen totally head over heels for the demon prince. He had seemed so innocent and kind---the complete opposite of Navarog. 

Out of nowhere, Kendra noticed the sentences on the letter seemed blurry. Why was she so upset? She couldn’t be crying, could she? Contrasting her thoughts, a tear slipped from her right eye and onto the paper, making the ink clot around the word “friend”. She felt pathetic. How could Bracken, the most attractive person she had ever met, like her? She was just an ordinary girl who had powers because the fairy queen had pitied her. Dougan had given her that letter around the time of her birthday about four years ago. Why was she still upset over something that had happened so long ago?

The door to her room swung open so fast she jumped. Bracken jumped in holding a box wrapped in blue decorative paper with a metallic pink bow on top. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” he shouted. Kendra quickly brushed away her tears with her forefinger. She managed a tight, awkward smile. 

“Thanks,” she said, her voice cracking. Bracken’s smile vanished. 

“Hey,” he said softly, closing the door behind him. “You okay?” He sat down next to Kendra on her bed, setting aside the present on the bedside table.

“Yeah,” Kendra replied, “I’m good.”  Bracken looked unconvinced. 

“You never were a good liar, were you?” he asked, brushing a new tear off of her cheek.

“No, I guess not,” she confessed, smiling a bit.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he said, concern in his eyes. “What happened?”

“Well, it’s a long story, and, I mean it happened a while ago…”  Kendra started.

“Oh, come on.  You know I have all the time in the world.”  

“. . . Alright, here it goes.” she said hesitantly. Bracken nodded. 

“So, when I first became a Knight of the Dawn, two other people were getting knighted along with me. One was an old woman who I never got to know very well, and one was a 16 year old boy named Gavin Rose. Me and Gavin were friends from the start, we got picked for missions together, and wrote each other letters,” she said, nodding towards the heap of envelopes and ruffled up notebook papers sitting on her bed. She continued the story.

“Over time, we grew closer. I began noticing small things as romantic implications.” she admitted, glancing over to Bracken, hoping he wouldn’t mind her talking about this. His expression remained neutral, so she continued on.

“We were eventually assigned a mission at a dragon sanctuary. We had to regain a key to an artifact vault. We successfully found and took the key, but trouble began on the way out.

“Two dragons waited in ambush on the top of a pass that was a necessary exit route. We were all ready to fight, but before any one of us had made contact, Gavin transformed. His face elongated, and he grew wings, and before anyone knew what was happening, the pitch black dragon that had been an innocent 16 year old only a moment ago, ate Dougan, and hurled Mara off of the cliff. And then I was alone. I ran to a crevice in the mountain where I knew dragons would not be able to fit. In panic, I didn’t think about their human avatars.

“Before long, the Gavin I had known entered the cave. He was sporting a smile that looked like it belonged in a horror movie, not on his innocent face. He was holding a bag. It was the knapsack that held a pocket dimension to the room Warren was in, injured. He burned it to the ground. If we hadn’t recovered the teleportation artifact, Warren would still be in there, rotting.

“Gavin approached me slowly. He threatened me, tried to hurt me. Of course, the only lasting damage he had inflicted was on the inside. I wanted to break down and cry. I managed to stay strong though, at least until Raxtus came and saved me. He was small, and fit in the tiny cave. Navarog was gone in three bites.” 

Kendra had finished the story. She was staring at her feet. She felt tears coming, and didn’t blink them away, letting them flow down her cheeks. She gave Bracken the letter. When he finished reading, he glanced up at her. “How could he have written those letters Bracken? How could he have written these words down on this paper knowing that in the end he would betray me? Try to kill me?!” Kendra’s voice quieted. “Knowing he never even felt anything for me in the first place?” she looked away. She wished Bracken hadn’t seen her cry. He seemed a little unsure of how to reply.

“He must have been despicable, Kendra. He obviously had no idea how lucky he almost was.” He paused. Kendra wondered what he had meant when he said lucky. “Do you need time alone?”  He asked. Kendra hesitated. She half wanted to sit alone in her bed, alongside the pile of letters, and cry; but she also desperately wanted someone’s comfort. Or maybe just Bracken’s comfort. 

Bracken began standing up.

“No, stay” she said, not truly wanting him to leave. She tugged at his sleeve. He sat back down. Kendra began to notice that he was a little closer than before. Their legs were almost touching. She laid her head on his shoulder, and more tears streamed down her cheeks, making his shirt damp. They sat like that, undisturbed, for what felt like an eternity. Not in a bad way, in a wish-you-could-stay-like-this-forever kind of way.  After a while Bracken broke the silence. He moved his head to look at her. Kendra did the same. 

“No one is ever going to hurt you again.” he promised her. Tears glazed Kendra’s eyes. She looked down and nodded bitterly. “You know I would never hurt you, right? He asked. She looked up, straight into his clear, blue-grey eyes. She realized his face was slowly growing close to hers now. Her nose brushed against Bracken’s, and, moving ever so slowly, her lips found his.

All of a sudden, nothing really mattered. Gavin Rose was beyond her field of thought. The Society of the Evening Star had never been farther away. A dragon war was a problem for tomorrow. And the so many betrayals she had experienced had been made up a few seconds ago, when Bracken’s lips had found hers. 

Fresh tears beelined down her face, making her cheeks sticky. It felt like she had dranken all of Tanu’s bottled up emotions at once. She felt guilt and excitement, confusion and happiness, fear and love. And then their lips parted, and she opened her eyes, and looked up at him. 

“I know,” she whispered. They kissed again, the mood lightened by their connection. Seth sprang into the room. Kendra and Bracken both jerked their heads toward the doorway, where he was standing. For a moment the three of them just stared at each other, unsure of what to say. Then Seth started turning red, as if he couldn’t breathe.  “Seth?” Kendra said, nervous. 

“I KNEW IT!” he screamed suddenly, making Kendra jump. “OH MY GOD WARREN YOU OWE ME TEN BUCKS!” Kendra could hear him running down the stairs. “VANESSA! WARREN! YOU ARE SO NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS!” he yelled, already downstairs. “I TOLD YOU SO!” he yelled, followed by a slammed door. Kendra and Bracken slowly turned their heads toward each other until they were looking directly into each other's widened eyes. And all of a sudden they were laughing. Kendra didn’t stop giggling until Vanessa stood in the doorway. 

“Kendraaa” she said in an accusing tone. 

“Yes?” she said, blushing.

“If what Seth told me is true… did you two…” she turned a little red.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not,”  Kendra said in a smug tone with her head up. “I’ve bet you’ve kissed Waaarreeeeeeen a ton of times” Kendra said, leaving Vanessa speechless. Kendra grabbed Bracken’s hand while Vanessa was thinking of what to say, pulled him up, and ran past Vanessa and out the door. As they ran down the stairs, giggling, Kendra could hear Vanessa say in a fairly loud voice, “I happen to be in my twenties, young lady! You’re 15!” This only made Bracken and Kendra laugh harder. 

“I’m 16 now, actually!”

Kendra could hear Vanessa half-heartedly jogging after them, so she sped up. Kendra threw open the screen door and ran outside, still giggling. She spotted Warren and Seth sitting in two lawn chairs just right of her. Seth was totally wide-eyed, and Warren had his hand out. Kendra gave him a high five and kept running. She heard Vanessa say “Warren!” in an exasperated voice, as Kendra and Bracken, still holding hands, entered her mom’s wooden greenhouse, locking the door behind them.

Kendra, panting and laughing, fell down into her mother’s bed of poppy flowers, her hand leaving Bracken’s in the process. It was pitch black in the greenhouse; her mom used special lights to grow her plants, not real sunlight; and sometimes she forgot to turn them on. Kendra tried getting out of the flowerbed, only to fall back down, laughing even harder. Bracken was also laughing hysterically, about two meters away. After they both calmed down, Bracken spoke.

“Kendraaaa” he whispered “where aaaare yoooooou”, he joked in a spooky voice. It took all Kendra had to stay silent and refrain from laughing again.  “Keeeendraaaaaaaa” he repeated. “I can't seeeee youuuuu.” Kendra snickered, and quickly covered her mouth. Bracken’s silhouette turned towards her and started walking. He passed her, and so she silently got up and started creeping away. Just when Kendra thought she found a great new hiding spot, she felt warm arms wrap around her waist, twirl her around and pull her closer. “Caught you,” Bracken whispered playfully. After a few moments of gazing into each other's eyes, Kendra felt Bracken’s face growing closer to hers. She could almost feel his breath on her face. Nervous, Kendra gradually moved her face closer to his. Their lips brushed against each other, and Bracken moved his face away from hers for a moment, as if asking permission. Kendra nodded slightly. He moved in slowly, and eventually their lips met. Kendra put her arms around his neck, and Bracken put one arm around her waist and used the other to pull the metal cord above him, which turned on the lights. Kendra suspected she would have squinted at the bright light, but she didn’t mind because her eyes were closed. Bracken’s other hand wound under her arm and bent upward to end with his hand on her shoulder. They stood, embraced, for many minutes. She wished this moment could last forever, just her and Bracken, but eventually she pulled away. 

“We should probably go.” Kendra said. “Wouldn’t want to miss cake”

“Yeah.” Bracken replied, sounding a little hurt.

“Hey,” Kendra said, pecking him on the lips. “It’s not you.”

He smiled.

Later, at dinner, they had asian food. Bracken and Kendra sat across from each other instead of next to, judgment of Vanessa. They played footsie until the cake was done. 

Soon, the lights were turned out, and the candles were lit.

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to Kendraaaaaaaa, Happy Birthday to youuuuuuu!!!” sang Warren, Vanessa, Grandma, Grandpa, her parents, Seth, and Bracken. Kendra beamed. She couldn’t imagine a life without any one of the people in front of her. 

Before she knew it, everyone was saying their goodbyes. Warren had winked at her and wished her good luck with Bracken. She had blushed and nodded. Vanessa told her to fill her in on all the details by writing her letters with umite wax. Kendra had agreed. Grandma and Grandpa squeezed her tight and made her promise to call them at least once a week until her next visit to Fablehaven next month. And finally it was Bracken’s turn to say goodbye. 

“You’ll write?” he asked.

“Promise.”

“And call?” 

“Of course.”

“Then I have nothing to worry about.” he sounded relieved.

“Should I be worried?” Kendra asked, concerned. “Aren’t you going to a dragon sanctuary in a week? Are you gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry needlessly. We’ll keep in touch.” he said, handing her a swirling pearly prism.

“You’re horn?”

“Yup.��

“Are you sure?”

“Completely.”

“Okay. I guess calling won’t be necessary then.”

“I guess not.”  

They stood in silence for a moment, looking at the ground.

“I’m gonna miss you” Kendra blurted, looking up at him. She blushed and looked back at the ground. “I mean, I have know idea when I’m going to see you again, or even if you’re going to make it out of the dragon sanctuary, and we have Ronodin to worry about, and I know you told me it doesn’t matter but---”

“Hey,” he said, tilting her chin up to look at him. “Everything is going to be fine.” Kendra sighed. 

“I know. It’s just---”

“Nope. No ‘it’s justs.’ it’s going to be okay.” he promised.

“Okay.” she sighed.

“I’m going to miss you a lot.” he admitted. Kendra smiled shyly.

“I will too.” she told him. She looked up at him. He looked away. Bracken took a deep breath, as if building up to something. He seemed a little nervous, his bright eyes hinting at anxiety. He glanced up at Kendra. Their gaze met, and his eyes shot back down. He inhaled heavily.

“I love you,” Bracken said, holding his breath. Tears were building up just above his lower eyelashes. Kendra kissed him before they could fall. When they broke away, Kendra looked up at him. His eyes were still closed, his mouth in an anxious grimace. He seemed to be dreading her answer.

“I love you too, Bracken.” She assured him. He took a deep, shaky breath and opened his eyes. This time it was he who leaned in for the kiss. It was soft and gentle, and Bracken wrapped Kendra in a warm embrace with one hand, the other on her cheek. She rested her hands on his shoulders. Their lips parted slowly. Kendra still had Bracken’s arms around her, and he had hers. Their foreheads rested on one another. When they broke apart fully, they gazed into each other’s eyes. Bracken’s thumb caressed her cheek. 

“Happy Birthday” he said.

[pollylynn]

Title: Unassisted WC: 800

“All these years and you never once let us know you were out there?” —  Richard Castle, Hunt (5 x 16)

She owes him an apology. She actually owes him something like four years’ worth of apologies. This isn’t so much a realization as it is an annoying, persistent buzz inside her head. She is too angry for epiphanies right now. She is too furious with him for taking off—for pulling a junior high scam on her and Martha—and she is beyond furious with herself for falling for it. But weaving through, hovering around, buzzing above all that fury is the reality that she owes him an apology. 

She can’t let it distract her, though. She doesn’t let it, because he is a selfish, reckless, unthinking fool and she has to do whatever she can to prevent that foolishness from being fatal. The news that Roger Henson had a girlfriend is like a gift from on high—or maybe a gift from down below, given the instincts she’s running on. But whether it’s divine or infernal, Pauline Degarmo is most certainly a gift. 

Pauline Degarmo is a lead waiting to happen. She is who knows how many leads waiting to happen. She’s a gift on that level, but it’s more than just that. Pauline Degarmo mouths off. She kicks back in the interrogation room chair and settles in for some quality stonewalling. Pauline Degarmo crosses her arms and tips herself backward, utterly oblivious to the way Kate’s eyes go practically black as she channels her inner Mark Fallon.

She sends Pauline Degarmo sailing backward, chair and all. She towers over the woman as she sprawls backward into the cinderblock wall. Good. I believe you, she rasps, and she’s almost sorry—almost—at how quickly the woman caves. The practically black sentiment behind her eyes could have used more of a workout. 

She runs on that—the fury and the focus it gives her.  It’s the glue holding her fractured, terrified form together and moving her through the details of the case, but the sorrow is catching up to her. The conviction that she owes him a thousand apologies is catching up to her. 

She thinks about his coldness throughout all of this and how terrifying it is. She thinks of him radiating contempt for Harris and his channels, for the El-Masris and their denials, for her and her uselessness. She thinks of the ways he has shut her out, rejected her overtures of support and offers of comfort. She thinks—even though the pain of it very nearly paralyzes her—of him vowing never to forgive her if she makes promises she cannot keep.

She contemplates every slight, every time he has lashed out, and every step he has taken away from her, choosing instead to withdraw into himself. She recognizes every move as one from her own damned playbook, every single one is a move she has perfected through practice, and he has, apparently, been studying at the hands of a master all this time. 

She thinks of how she has banished him once, twice, three times. She hears herself telling him that it’s over, that it’s her life, that she has no reason to believe anything he says. She takes in the scope of all the people she has shut down over the years and cut off for daring to ask about her mother’s death—for daring to suggest that she did not have to bear that burden of sorrow alone. She thinks about the set of flip numbers she doesn’t have, but really needs to have hanging in her apartment: It has been zero days since Kate Beckett  has abused and alienated every person in her life for the heinous crime of trying to help. 

She thinks of Bracken twice over—of leaving him in her bed to follow through on some plan held together with duct tape, frayed twine, and delusional hubris. She thinks of folding away McManus’s letter—quickly, quickly—then getting him out of the way. Why don’t you go get some rest? She has done this to him so many times and it hurts coming and going. It hurts that she’s done it—that she’s constantly doing it—and it hurts that he’s doing it now. 

It’s such a big conversation, this apology. It’s serious and daunting and she hardly knows how to begin. With an apology, she thinks. With a  promise that she’ll try—she’ll try  to keep that set of flip numbers going up and up, if he’ll swear to do the same. 

She thinks that’s how it should probably begin, but then he’s there and the conversation is simply too big. He is home, and it’s all she can do to wind her arms tight around him and whisper—Please don’t do anything like that again without me, okay? 

It’s a plea. It’s a vow. It’s an apology. 

A/N: Mental floppily numbness: Not a thing

images via homeofthenutty

[charlettebffxiv]

Prompt #9 Friable

Working in the Greenhouse was a mixed affair on most suns. During the winter, it could be a nice, warm getaway from the harsh cold that permeated even The Shroud. On summer suns though, like this one, it just added to the heat that was constantly pressing down on you. Since mid-morning Charlette had been sweating into her clothes, but by the time she had reached the Greenhouse, she already had wet shadows in her pits. Gods above, she hated suns like this. And now she was staring down several bells in the purposefully hot and humid enclosure, where Bobocufu and the other botanists grew their more exotic flora. Plants from all kinds of far-off, warmer climates sat in different sections of the glass house, each one given the exact setting they needed to feel as home as possible. From Ala Mhigan oasis plants, to Thanalan river plants and even a few exotic pieces that apparently can only be found in the jungles of Gelmorra. All of them precious to the specific botanist that had brought them here and painstakingly raised them to the blossoming health they had now. All of them now in the sweaty palms of one Duskwight novice who had to make sure they all got what they needed.

She swiped a hand across her brow, slipped her arm through one suspender of her overalls, the other hang loose, the cropped tank-top she wore underneath already proving too much despite the scandalous, in her opinion, amount of skin it showed off. But that was enough whining inside her own head, it was time to get to her first bit of work. The lush, Thanalan bush that sat before her was covered in pink flowers, just about ready to start to wilt and form into the real prize it had to offer: Desert Saffron. Maxim swears by the flavour it can provide, and upon hearing it might be available, A’nidreah and her other Sun Seeker sisters had practically drooled all over Charlette’s sleeves. She would be lying if she said she was not looking forward to testing out this fabled spice. But first, she would need to not mess this up. The bush itself sat in the driest corner of the Greenhouse, in a box filled with soil so barren it looked almost like the desiccated bed of a salt lake. However, beneath was moist, clay-like earth that gave the bush the sustenance it needed. And Charlette had to add just the right amount of water to keep it moist, but not wet. She checked the instructions scrawled in chalk on the board next to the planter box, courtesy of Maxim. “Three pumps of water. Sprinkle top soil just over the base. Do not tamp it down. Do not touch the flowers. Do not, for goodness sake, kill my Safforn Charlette or I will spit in your ear!” -  ♥ Maxim A strange threat, but not one Charlette was willing to test. She pulled a level out of a copper drum of water, pressed down and watched as the liquid started to bubble-up between those cracks in the soil. It was being flooded directly into it through piping that ran underneath the packed earth. Bobocufu has spared no expenses, and effort, to make this Greenhouse near perfect. No more than three presses! Then she took out a little garden spade, scooped up Thanalan topsoil from a sack and scattered it around the base of each bush. The planter resembled something you might see out in the Thanalan grasslands, just after a mild rain that had awoken a small river for a bell or two. “How anyone can live in such a dry place, I don’t know. But apparently you do.” she spoke directly to the plant, reaching a hand out, coming very, very close to one of the friable, dry petals. But she pulled just short of touching. She did not break rules, even ones set out by that class clown Maxim. On to the next one. La Noscean Dragon Peppers that needed a little salt water spritzed on their leaves and to have their roots soaked to the point of almost coming out of the soil itself. Bobocufu’s corpse flowers that, really, just needed to be checked to make sure they weren't rotting away, or if that was just the slight, musky scent that permeated the soon-to-bloom horrors. That sweltering heat even started to disappear into the back of her mind, the focus needed to make sure she did it all at the right time, in the right order, to the right amount was wonderful in that respect. It left room for no other thoughts, not even about the drips that keep burning her eyes. Bells passed quickly, and before she had time to really step back and take stock of her hard work, Charlette had reached the final piece. It was her own plot, and she had picked a rather unusual kind of creature to fill it with: fungi. Yes, Charlette had decided that mushrooms were going to be her focus, and the dark little hovels that had been built over the plot she had earned with her moons in service to the Botanist Guild were only just now starting to see their very first spores. Tiny little caps, only just beginning to burst from the bracken laid underneath the humidity-soaked logs promised, at the very least, her first crop was going to arrive soon. Cave Chanterelle, hardly as big as they can get in the caverns below, but then Charlette didn’t have that kind of space, now did she? Still, it had been a long, long time since her family had enjoyed the taste of them in the one dish her mother knew best how to cook. A face she often held over her husband’s head. It was going to be a special thing, Charlette hoped, when she presented them to her mother. She always wanted to take on the cooking, when her father’s nameday comes around, and every nameday it was the same dish. Which he claimed was his favourite, and Charlette saw no reason to doubt him. So it was with an extra careful hand that she moved the stiffening leaves and twigs away and added new, freshly dropped leaves she had picked from the forest this morning. Water trickled across them from the spout of a watering can, not directly atop the shrooms, but over the log. It cascaded down, just as rainfall may have, and eventually soaked into the soil, wetted the leaves, and made everything humid and muddy. Just how they liked it, well, to a point. Charlette wrote the instructions down on her own board, it was Maxim’s turn next and now she finally had time to think of a good threat of her own. A kick in the groin? Threatening, yes, but also so common. Two kicks and a punch in the nose? Maybe, if a bit basic. She pulled up a stool, sat herself down, and set about the task. The sweat dripping down her grey-blue skin all but forgotten, that focus coming back once more.